


'how to look after your not-so-little baby': a comprehensive guide by Amy Santiago

by Star_less



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amy handles it in the only way she knows how, Artistic License, Bad Dreams, Bed-Wetting, Bedtime Stories, Biology Inaccuracies, Comfort, Crying, Cuddling, Diapers, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Dreams and Nightmares, Embarrassment, Episode: s01e18 The Apartment, Episode: s03e23 Greg and Larry, Episode: s04e01 Coral Palms, F/M, Feeding, Gen, Goodbyes, Holt as Jake's Dad, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Inspired by Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Jake has a little side, Jake is Spoilt, Jake's love for Die Hard is consistent, My First Work in This Fandom, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, Not Canon Compliant, Pacifiers, Slice of Life, Sort Of, Stuffed Toys, Time-out, Toys, being fed, bother figure, dad Holt - Freeform, little!Jake, minor canon divergence!, naughty chair, poor jake, pull-ups, secrets are spilled, sorry I'm not a doctor but I do have google
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: The thing was, no one had ever written a book on how to deal with things when your fiance turned around and declared they were a part time adult baby. Everybody had written books on babies - twins, newborns, babies with disabilities - but no one had ever written a book on Amy’s baby.Jake's badly-kept secret comes tumbling out... and what else can Amy do other than accept it? But that's not to say it wouldn't take some getting used to... and Amy handles things in the only way she knows how.Then along comes Holt. This is the story of Jake and his dysfunctional new little life with his slightly less dysfunctional new family.





	1. the binder

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> First work in this fandom but here I am, corrupting it with my stories about babying and pee. If this isn't your thing you should click backwards. 
> 
> If not.. enjoy!  
> I've been binging B99 on Netflix for months and I've just got to the end of s5 (uk Netflix goes no further) - I wrote this as some sort of therapy for me missing the characters I so badly love. Also, Jake is baby.

Amy Santiago had never been good with kids.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like children — of course she liked children, what sort of a monster would say they didn’t like children, especially someone working for the NYPD? Oh no, Amy liked children plenty. Her niece, a tiny three year old with a snotty nose and bright wet eyes and duckling tufts of brown hair, brought out the biggest of Amy’s smiles and flicked some switch deep within her where she attempted to go full kids-tv-presenter (while the little girl toddled around totally unfazed and requested Doc McStuffins be played on the television a million times.)  
It was just when she tried to get into the kids’ heads that it became a problem and led to Amy overthinking every tiny choice and responsibility she had ever been given. 

Which threw a spanner in the works whenever The Powers That Be, whoever they were, decided that Amy Santiago would be the perfect match for one goofy detective Jake Peralta.   
Goofy detective Jake Peralta who soaked his bedsheets six nights out of seven, wore a dinosaur patterned onesie that snapped at the crotch at bedtime, would have his pacifier bobbing in his mouth the second he got home and who was rather partial to (or should that have been, ‘inconsolably hysterical without,’) a diaper and a bottle of warm milk to relax with. 

It... didn’t come as a surprise to her, the fact that Jake liked to... do stuff like this when he wasn’t at work. Amy wasn’t in any way a psychologist but she supposed acting like a baby helped Jake to block out the particularly gruesome murders he came across. It explained why he seemed able to act both very maturely and very childishly while he was at work. It explained most of all, though, why Amy had been waking up to find that she wasn’t sharing a bed with Jake like she had when they had said goodnight the night before, why Jake looked even more like the back end of a dead possum than usual in the mornings. 

“Babe?”  
Sleep blurred the corners of Amy’s vision but still she awoke, vaguely aware it was the middle of the night and Jake wasn’t in bed with her— but had tussled with the bedsheets given the fact that his side of the duvet was scrunched and on her side, her foot was sticking out. Slowly climbing out of bed, Amy padded out of the bedroom, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Jake hadn’t answered her, so she repeated. “Jake?”  
Still nothing — nothing aside from a tiny squeak that wriggled its way out from under the bathroom door. Darting over to the door, which was hitched open very slightly, Amy pushed it fully. “Babe, come back to be—”

Oh.

It took a moment to sink in — a torturously long moment. No matter how many times Amy blinked or tried to yank herself away from what felt like some weird fever dream, Jake did not disappear. Nor did the puddle of pee he was standing in, nor did the soaked and stained snap-crotch paw print patterned onesie he was wearing (that she was sure he wasn’t wearing when he slipped into bed) nor the pacifier that was balancing between his trembling lips or his eyes, wide and brown and gleaming with tears already. “I...” Jake said. “I can explain, I- I tried my hardest to...”   
His voice sounded almost alien to Amy, at a crossroads of velvet-soft and tiny - and his usual low and scratchy.   
He trailed off at the end and Amy recognised that he was about to cry. She swallowed the lump in her throat that had bloomed instantaneously and calmly stepped across the threshold into the bathroom. “I am going to help you clean up...” she said, gesturing to the puddle, “and then you are going to tell me what’s going on.”

She drew him a bath. It felt like the only thing she could do for him in that moment, when his legs were sticky and cold wetness clung to them. He lowered himself into the warm water and Amy offered him a feeble scrub to his legs before giving up and beginning to tackle the puddle.   
It was only when Amy’s back was turned did Jake begin to speak. In his normal voice.   
He told Amy of his night wetting problems.   
He told Amy he enjoyed treating himself like a baby every now and then because it helped him forget about it - and some of the other bad stuff, too.  
He told Amy that in order to hide both of these problems he would sneak out of bed in the dead of night to set up camp in the bathroom, no matter if it was to protect the mattress from an achingly full bladder or just for five minutes with his pacifier. By the time he had finished speaking he sounded like he was going to cry again, and Amy was sure she would cry with him. “Oh, Jake.” She whispered, hauling him out of the tub and pulling him close. “You don’t have to hide this from me.”

...That didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to adapt to. The thing was, no one had ever written a book on how to deal with things when your fiance turned around and declared they were a part time adult baby. Everybody had written books on babies - twins, newborns, babies with disabilities - but no one had ever written a book on Amy’s baby. Amy wasn’t quite sure how she would manage it. She wasn’t good with little kids, let alone kids who were also a good foot taller than you. But Amy didn’t want to give up on Jake for something so... harmless, so innocent. Something he so very obviously needed. 

Pulling a blue fleece blanket over Jake one evening, and removing the empty baby bottle that was hanging from his lips, Amy smiled as Jake curled up beneath the blanket and babbled babyishly to himself. She turned to her laptop and printed neatly at the top of a word document, 

_‘Amy’s Adult Baby Binder’_

If there wasn’t a rulebook, Amy had to make one of her own.


	2. Rule 14: Sprinkles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rule #14: Sprinkles**   
>  _Jake is always a bit hesitant in trying new foods, but if you can cover them in sprinkles you're guaranteed he'll at least try a little bit._

**Rule #14: Sprinkles**  
_Jake is always a bit hesitant in trying new foods, but if you can cover them in sprinkles you're guaranteed he'll at least try a little bit._

"Please, babe," Amy pleaded, holding out the spoon of slightly runny oatmeal in the direction of Jake's mouth. "This is oatmeal. It's healthy and yummy for you. It'll make your tummy feel better than any of those yucky breakfast burritos will!" 

(They had been having a tiny issue recently where the breakfast burritos or brightly coloured candy Jake tended to favour at breakfast time were beginning to give him tummy upsets. It quickly led to a few very messy situations. Amy loved Jake so much that those situations, never mind how catastrophic, weren't necessarily a factor in her trying to force him to eat healthier -- but rather witnessing the absolute beet red, bawling humiliation that swallowed Jake whole afterwards proved to Amy that this was simply another aspect of Jake's life that he needed somebody else to take over.)

Staring down the spoonful of pale runny mush, Jake made sure to keep his mouth tightly closed and in a thin line. Even if Amy said it looked healthy, he wasn't so sure. It looked like something that old ladies would eat, not little boys.   
He wrinkled his nose. He did not want to be an old lady. "No!"

Amy sighed and dropped the spoon back into the bowl, looking around their kitchen. "Baby, we have work soon, you can't go in on an empty tummy." she instructed firmly.  
Jake was not listening. Of course he wasn't; that would mean having to eat the old lady oatmeal. Besides, he had caught sight of something much more interesting-- the sprinkles that Amy kept in the cupboard for when they did baking. They were in a space rocket shaped bottle and there were stars and silver balls (like planets!) and tiny green aliens. "Amy?" he asked shyly, chewing on the tips of his fingers. "Can we make cookies later? Space cookies?" He beamed, pulling his finger out of his mouth and aiming it at the cupboard. 

"Of course we can, babe, but not until you eat something." Amy bargained. She looked toward the cupboard Jake was guiding her toward and bit back a sigh. Honestly, Jake had pestered her so much for those sprinkles and she had been so busy looking after him and work and... whatever else, that she had forgotten they were there.  
And then-- in an instant-- it hit her. "How about we have some space oatmeal, Jakey?" She asked slowly, moving toward the cupboard and pulling out the space-themed sprinkles and a small bottle of honey in a teddybear shaped bottle. A smile quirked on her lips.

"Space oatmeal..?" Jake asked, chewing on his fingers thoughtfully. Space oatmeal didn't sound like a thing. It sounded a little bit like something Amy had made up. But it also sounded a little tiny bit cool. Amy was smiling softly at him, and this made Jake smile too.  
Wide eyed, he leaned forward to watch. 

Amy poured honey into the oatmeal into the shape of a smiley face, and shook the sprinkles lightly over the oatmeal so that they left tiny pools of yellow and green in the bowl. "Space oatmeal!" she declared seriously, nodding insistently at him as if that'd help him believe. "This is what all the best space explorers eat up there in their space rockets!"  
She looked at him, wide eyed and desperate, half expecting him to laugh at her and tip the oatmeal over her head-- yet Jake was won over at once. He gasped all soft and awe-filled, took the bowl from Amy's clutches, and messily began to eat - Amy almost had to ask him to slow down he was eating so quickly.

Jake didn't like the sound of being all old and grown up, but being a space explorer...? Count him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, to add some Jazz to my boring breakfast (yoghurt and honey) I add space shaped sprinkles to it. My inner Jake Peralta is very pleased.


	3. Rule 15: Age Appropriate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rule #15: Age Appropriate**  
>  _Jake should only watch movies that are age appropriate, which means no Die Hard, no Die Hard 2 and definitely no Die Hard 3 as anything that isn't age appropriate gives him nightmares, and anything that gives him nightmares results in wet pajamas._  
>  (Jake doesn't have pull ups yet.)

**Rule #15: Age Appropriate**  
_Jake should only watch movies that are age appropriate, which means no Die Hard, no Die Hard 2 and definitely no Die Hard 3 as anything that isn't age appropriate gives him nightmares, and anything that gives him nightmares results in wet pajamas.  
(Jake doesn't have pull ups yet.)_

Jake bounced into the living room of his apartment, thin blue blanket trailing from his one chubby fist onto the wood floor. “Amy, I got ready for bed!” He announced, standing in front of her and holding his arms out expectantly so she could look over him. 

“Let me check.” Amy cooed, looking over him quickly as per their ritual. ‘The check’, as minor as it was, was a very important part of their bedtime routine if Jake was feeling not-so-big. Jake was still fiercely independent and loved to pick out his favourite pajamas... but when he was ‘little’ it was as if all his common sense flew out of the window. Sometimes he’d fallen asleep with his feet in one leg hole, sometimes he’d fallen asleep with one arm hanging out of his shirt, and sometimes he decided to put his footie pajamas on the wrong way around. How he had managed that last one Amy couldn’t say - but it made even the simplest potty trip chaotic and if there was one thing Amy wanted to avoid, it was seeing Jake sobbing footsteps away from the toilet with a rapidly spreading puddle at his feet. 

(Yes, she knew he needed pull ups. That was a bridge they hadn’t yet crossed.)

”Great job, pumpkin!” Amy beamed, buttoning up a missed button on his sleeper. “What do you wanna do before bedtime?”

”Can we watch a movie?” Jake asked shyly, grabbing his pacifier from where it had been abandoned on the table and slipping it into his mouth with a few appreciative suckles. It was also a handy tool in bargaining, since one glance at Jake, pacifier bobbing in his mouth, big brown eyes and all, had Amy relenting in an instant.  
Sure enough, Amy looked toward the clock on the mantel. It was 6:30. Jake was always made to do his bedtime routine this early just in case he crashed after a long day, but his official ‘little’ bedtime was 8:45, which left a good chunk of time to watch...  
Amy sighed and ran her fingers through his brown curls. “Of course we can, sweetheart. What would you like to watch?”

They were still new to this whole, ‘little’ thing, so when Amy said, ‘what would you like to watch?’ she wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting... but it certainly wasn’t Die Hard.  
Perhaps maybe the Lego Movie, Toy Story at a push. But this was Jake, and perhaps she shouldn’t have expected any less. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure Die Hard is made for little ones...?” she offered hesitantly. 

Jake whined, locking the puppy dog eyes on her. “Please? It’s my favourite.”

Amy sighed. “Okay, but if I think it’s not appropriate I’m turning it off.” 

“You’re so not-fun.” Jake grumbled. 

“I’m letting you watch it, aren’t I? Go!” Amy said, swatting his bottom. Jake, squeaking, ran off to get the DVD.

Amy was sure she’d seen Die Hard so often she could watch it with her eyes closed; she didn’t bargain on Jake doing so too considering how much he loved the film, but he fell asleep a little under a hour into the movie curled up with his head in Amy’s lap and a thin blanket over his midriff. Amy didn’t mind so much, letting him stay there as she flicked through the channels and absent mindedly ran her fingers through his hair. She had changed the channel as soon as he had drifted off, not sure she could stand five minutes more of it, and had settled for a re-run of The Great British Bake Off in between cuddling Jake and writing notes for work one handed. She couldn't help herself but she was quick to get engrossed, even if it was just writing a list of tasks and ticking off others that had been completed. As much as she loved Jake and wanted to make this special arrangement work, sometimes it was mind numbing and sometimes she found herself needing to work to re-focus - and then she was able to handle Jake once more. This time, though, she got so engrossed in the lists she was writing that the distant background noise of Mary Berry trickled away - as did the gentle rhythmic snores emanating from her lap. When Amy was finally able to yank herself out of her work headspace it was a little later... and Jake was whimpering and shifting on her lap. Just listening to him whimper as he was made guilt seize up Amy's heart. How had she not heard him? Felt him, even?  
Eyes widened with concern, Amy nudged Jake's shoulder. "Hey... hey, Jakey. You're alright, you're okay." She cooed softly even if she had no idea whether he was able to listen to her voice. She stroked his cheek and continued squeezing his shoulders in an attempt to rouse him from the sleep that was so obviously troubling him, but Jake was sleeping too deeply.  
"No!" He shouted in his sleep, batting furiously at Amy as though she were an attacker-- although luckily, his hits were too soft to have much of an impact. "No, you can't! Don't take my Amy! Don't take my Amy away!" he began to cry softly in between thrashing around on the sofa, his face creased in obvious worry. "Take me, take me instead!"

"Sweetheart, you're safe!" Amy said, voice a smidge higher now as she tried to cut through his upset. "I'm safe, I've got you." 

Jake went silent suddenly - silent and boneless with relief, and Amy thought that perhaps the nightmare had faded. She continued to stroke his hair as they laid on the sofa in an attempt to hopefully starve off the nightmares until she decided to take him to bed - but then the whimpering started up again. "Don't hurt me... lemme go, please, lemme!" He shouted, wrenching himself from Amy's grip and thrashing around in the blanket as the tears came rushing down his cheeks in hot sheets. "Lemme go, don't hit me!" He bawled, curling up in the foetal position with his hands over his head. Amy could do nothing but watch him as he cried and stroke his back feebly. "Darling you're safe, no one is going to hurt you!" she promised, but nothing seemed to be getting through to him as he bawled and fought and... and then the blankets began to get that tell-tale heavy wetness.  
Even Amy didn't register it at first, but when she did her heart sank. "Wake up, pumpkin," she shook him lightly, "C'mon, time to wake up. Let's get you in for a change."

It took a while but slowly, Jake's eyes began to flutter open. He sat up dizzily still groggy with sleep and looked at Amy with that kind of lost look in his eyes, both relieved that Amy had tore him away from that scary dream and confused as to why she had interrupted his sleep and it made Amy's heart break. He rubbed his eyes and looked down at his heavy, sodden-with-pee lap, and whimpered. "Amy... I did a pee."

As if she didn't know. Despite herself, despite everything, Amy let out a giggle. "I know you did, darling." she told him, cupping his cheek. "Let's get you changed and head up to bed."

Jake looked disoriented still, clinging onto her arm and looking around. The living room was dimly-lit and bathed in low brown light, nowhere near as threatening as the darkness he had experienced in his dreams. He was at home, he was with Amy, and he was safe, and so was she. Slowly, his quickening pulse calmed down, only aided by Amy nudging him toward the stairs.

"What did you dream about, sweetheart?" Amy asked once they were in the bright whiteness of the bathroom, helping him unzip his cold and smelly sleep suit and swap it for some plain sweats. 

"I dreamed you were a hostage like in Die Hard." Jake said quietly, gazing at his bare feet and curling his toes against the tiles. The tiles were cold in comparison to his warm damp feet and it kinda helped him to stay grounded and not get so scared. "N' I tried to save you like John McClane but I couldn't save you and I got hurt too."  
Die Hard. Again. Amy would've laughed, but the miserable look on Jake's face made her think otherwise. "I couldn't save you!" He repeated tearfully, fidgeting. "Amy, what if-- what if that happens someday?" a tear trickled down his cheek. "What if I can't save you?!"

As quick as Amy had calmed him down she had worked him up again. Biting back a sigh Amy took hold of his shoulders and kneeled down so she was a little more on his level. "Sweetie... you are the best cop I know. I trust you to save me."  
Once Amy was sure that no tears were going to re-emerge she straightened herself out. "Bedtime." she declared. "But I think no more Die Hard if you're feeling little, hm?"

Jake sniffled. He was too tired to argue... even if Die Hard was one of his favourite movies, those nightmares had been scary. Next time, he wanted to watch The Tigger Movie.

Amy was glad that he had agreed to this rule so easily, although she was sure that getting him to agree to pull ups was going to take a little more persuasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the first chapter says Jake wears diapers, and this one doesn't, but the first chapter was a 'flashback' sort of thing. So it works out. Trust me. 
> 
> Also, ive never watched Die Hard, so... oops, I guess, if I've got everything completely wrong


	4. Rule 16, sub-section A: Pull-Ups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rule #16: Pull-Ups**   
>  _Pull-Ups come in about six too many varieties than they should. As it turns out, they're not quite the best choice for Jake after all._

**Rule #16: Pull-Ups**  
 _Pull-Ups come in about six too many varieties than they should. As it turns out, they're not quite the best choice for Jake after all._  
 **Sub-Section A:** _Swedish fish are a helpful bargaining tool._

"Excuse me, would you like some help?" 

They had been doing just fine by themselves, so to hear an over-eager sugary-sweet voice float up from behind them made Jake wince. No, hell no, the last thing he wanted at the moment was an audience that was bigger than just him and Amy. It was hard enough to tune out the other shoppers and pretend that they couldn't see what he was looking at, never mind having a store assistant with them too.   
To rub salt in the wounds, he wasn't allowed to be in littlespace while they shopped, either. Oh, the grown-up part of his brain was more than understanding, but the not-so-grown-up part was finding it difficult to hold back - and was rather wondering why he had to hold back when this was evidently 'littlespace' territory. See, Amy had guilted him into buying some pull-ups. Yes, pull-ups. He’d never worn pull-ups before in his life - or at least, not since he was a toddler, and then he was too young to remember. His big side was having a little trouble reconciling with this. The pacifier, the blanket, the onesies, they were easy - they were... safe. Pull-ups certainly were not. Pull-ups were a kind of ‘throwing himself off the deep end into one of those weird Lifetime documentaries’ definitely-not-safe. He had pleaded and begged and bawled both in big and little space but it had gained him nothing other than Amy, adamant that he needed something to stop him from making so many puddles. Just as he'd suspected, Amy didn’t agree with him. “When we go in there, switch tactic." was all that she'd offered him as comfort as they sat in Amy's car outside the pharmacy. "Treat this like a case. Get your detective head on, not your Jake Peralta one. That way, you won’t feel so embarrassed.”  
Inside the pharmacy, with his ‘detective head’ on just as Amy had asked, Jake found himself longing for some sort of secret drug bust, a larceny, anything other than what they were actually there for. He felt as though he had a great big flashing sign above his head, one with ‘Jake Peralta wears diapers’ on it. The smallest of small mercies was that the first thing he'd set eyes on was the candy counter, and Amy had promised him some Swedish fish so long as he behaved.

"No tha--" Jake began, twisting on the spot to face the saleslady. "Yes, please!" Amy cut in before Jake could get there, smiling gratefully and ignoring the sharp jab to the ribs she received from Jake.   
"We're looking for the, um.." she lowered her voice, leaned in slightly. This was a sensitive topic, after all. Jake wanted no one to know they had set foot in here in the first place, never mind what they were purchasing. "...Pull ups, diapers... _protection_... in, um, adult sizes."

The store assistant pulled back slightly, studying Jake and Amy with a gentle, "Oh!". Recollecting herself after her surprise - and seeing the uncomfortably blushing faces looking back at her, the big plastic smile re-emerged on her face as she led Amy and a furiously blushing Jake toward the back of the store with a quiet, "Right this way, you two."   
There, the pair were presented with an area that was wall-to-wall filled with diapers, pull ups and plastic pants in every design, size, and colour imaginable. "Thank you," Amy smiled before turning to look toward Jake.   
Seeing the sheer variety was... pretty overwhelming. "Alright, Jake..." Amy made sure to keep her voice low and quiet, not wanting to risk a tantrum here. "Do you know what size would fit best?"

"No," Jake said grumpily, huffing. "In case you haven't noticed, Amy, wearing diapers isn't exactly my favourite hobby."

Amy sighed and squeezed Jake's hand in her own, feeling him tremble in her grip. "Sweetheart I know this is rough on you but you need to work with me here, alright? I promised I'd get you Swedish fish."  
The unhappy look on Jake's face wavered a smidge. Amy beamed. "C'mon. I think you're about a medium." She urged him over to the area where the mediums were and the two came to a stop, no less overwhelmed than they had been a short while ago. There was still so much... _too much_... choice. There were diapers - some with plastic tabs and some with tape, some made of plastic and some made of fabric, some made to be extra thick and some thin and flimsy. There were pull ups; thinner - some almost looked like boxers if you squinted. The pull ups were mostly plastic, and covered in any design imaginable. Paw Patrol, Peppa Pig, Disney Princess, the Avengers, Jurassic Park. Jake didn’t want to admit it, but the brightly coloured front panels caught his interest almost immediately and he had to fight to yank his gaze away.   
The plastic pants on the rack over, on the other hand, looked to Jake like some form of ridiculous torture device. Large coloured plastic - pink, blue, green-with-ducks, and wide crinkled leg holes. As Jake was not-so-sneakily taking in the selection he could feel Amy’s gaze burning into him.

”So, which ones are you picking?”

Jake jumped. He tore his gaze away. “What?”

”Which ones are you picking?” Amy indicated the display, as if Jake hadn’t been looking at it for the last two minutes and thirty seconds. Jake scowled and scoffed indignantly. “None of them, Ames.”

Amy sighed. To Jake’s ears she sounded upset; but Amy wanted to avoid an argument here, not create one. “Okay, If you wont pick, I’ll pick for you.” She told Jake, pulling a package off of the shelf without looking and tossing it at him. Jake looked down at the package which landed in his grip with a crinkled ‘whomf’. “Pull ups,” he read quietly. “Paw Patrol. Absorbency 2. Size M. Amy, what does this all mean?” He whined. 

“I... don’t know, sweetheart.” Amy said apologetically. “Maybe those will be fine?”

”Excuse me, ma’am. I couldn’t help but overhear, are you sure you wouldn’t be in need of some help?” The over-eager saleslady from earlier on cocked her head, offering the pair a prize winning smile — gliding in before Jake had the chance to shut it down, get his Swedish fish, and leave. Instead he shifted on the spot, his cheeks igniting with heat and his eyes closing in shame. It felt as if she knew, as if everybody in this damn pharmacy knew, and he was just waiting for the laughter to bubble up.   
“...Yes, actually,” Amy said hesitantly, voice distant to Jake as his blood roared around his ears. “We’re not quite sure which type to buy...?”

”Of course! Who are you buying for? If they’re a heavy wetter, I certainly don’t recommend pull ups. Pull ups are great if you need them to be slimline and the user doesn’t wet too excessively. If they’re a heavy wetter, diapers are certainly the better choice.” The saleslady indicated the diaper section with a bright unwavering smile. Jake, squirming with shame, took the quickest glance at the section before looking down again. This was humiliating. 

“Actually, they’re...” Amy took a deep breath, squeezing Jake’s hand and glancing toward him. What was the point in hiding it? Amy had purposely driven to a pharmacy miles and miles off of their usual, they'd never see this person again. “They’re for my boyfriend, here.”

Jake wasn’t sure he was hearing correctly. His face flooded an ugly shade of red and suddenly he felt sick, flinching away from Amy’s touch and letting out an embarrassed squawk of shock. So much for, 'put your detective head on'. Still, he remembered the Swedish fish. A part of him wanted to say screw the stupid Swedish fish, but another part of him stayed obediently silent.

“Ahh..” The saleslady let out a little hum of understanding and Jake could hear the giggle brewing in her voice - that little coo, as if she was going to kneel down and stroke his hair and speak in a little sugary baby voice to him. If he had been little — hell — if he had been in any other situation than this, he might have weakened, welcomed it, let her. But this... this was all-over humiliating. Still, she chugged on with the sales pitch without pause, as if he wasn’t about to melt with humiliation right in front of her. “Diapers with tapes are a little tricky to wear independently, you’ll need someone to change you. The other type, with tabs, are easier to pull up and down. They come in five levels of absorbency, whereas pull-ups only come in three. Are you a heavy wetter?"

Jake didn't look at her. Something large and ugly like a stone brewed in his throat that he tried to speak around, but couldn't. His eyes misted over and he looked away. Amy squeezed his hand sympathetically and slid in. "Sorry, he's a little embarrassed," she chuckled delicately, 'a little' being an impressive understatement. "Yes, he is. Especially at nighttime."   
Jake whimpered again, too scared to open his eyes in case he saw the saleslady laugh at him or something; but again, all she did was hum in agreement. "Then I would recommend these," she said, handing over a red patterned package. "They're absorbency four. Work well both night and day. Tabbed, so not too difficult to wear independently. They aren't as pretty as our pull ups, but they do have a wetness indicator." she pointed out, as if this was supposed to make him feel better; hell, as if he couldn't feel when he wet. "Thanks." he choked out and took the package; the first word he'd said in what felt like an age. Smiling sympathetically, the saleslady patted his shoulder and went on her way.   
~

"You told her!" Jake wailed, the second they got to the car. How he had kept his mouth shut until now was a miracle that not even he truly understood. "You told her I needed 'em!"

"Sweetheart, I had to. She would've guessed it was for one of us, anyway." Amy stroked his hair upsettedly. Not even the Swedish fish, which she had made sure to buy even when Jake said no, could cheer him up at the moment and Amy wasn't quite sure if she was dealing with a Jake who was a little more upset than usual, or a Jake that was rapidly slipping into littlespace. "It's alright, I bet she gets customers like that all the time. And I drove far out so she's never going to see us again, not even at work. You're gonna be just fine."

Jake sniffled, as the rational part of his brain realised Amy was right, even if he was still upset. He stuck a Swedish fish into his mouth and suckled at it in lieu of a pacifier which quickly confirmed Amy's suspicions. "Hey." she said, stroking his knuckles. "How about when we go home and I help you into one of these, you can have your Swedish fish and some chocolate milk and watch Guardians of the Galaxy? The one with Baby Groot in it."   
It wasn't the 'littlest' movie in the world, but Jake had only ever asked to watch it when he was feeling little because he liked the baby tree. He nodded drowsily in between chews of his gummy fish and mumbled, "Vol. 2," at her. 

"Yeah, buddy." Amy appeased, smiling softly. "Volume 2."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want some Swedish fish RN. This wasn't my favourite chapter but luckily the upcoming ones are much better!!! :D


	5. the witness protection programme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Holt and Jake entered into the Witness Protection Programme for their own safety after the threat on their lives courtesy of Jimmy Figgis, Jake is forced to give up on what he's only just gotten used to. Jake and Amy share a farewell, and Amy has a gift for Holt that is surprisingly illuminating.

“Are you going to be okay?”  
Squeezing Jake’s arms, Amy broke off their hug. Jake lingered for a little longer, looking as though he didn’t want to break away just yet. His brown eyes were damp with tears and his lip quivered.   
“Yeah,” he said despite everything, nodding insistently. His voice was about as 'grown up' as he could make it right now, but Amy could wriggle her way beneath the gentle scratchiness and knew there was a very fragile line between Jake's big and little spaces. Jake seemed almost to be trying to convince himself as much as he was Amy. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll miss you, but... it won’t be that long, right? I’ve... I’ve had time away from you before.”   
But it wasn’t about having time away from Amy. Jake knew that, and Amy knew that too. Jake had cried on and off all day about having to go into the Witness Protection Programme, about having to be away from Amy, and Amy had cried too. But Amy knew they would manage time apart, no matter how hard it was going to be. Amy was crying for a different reason. 

Jake had to be without his baby stuff. Jake was being given a new identity; an identity that most likely didn’t enter little space. She had told him as much, helped him pack up his baby stuff, made sure that he really understood what was going to happen and that he couldn’t bring his baby stuff with him. But she wasn’t sure he really did, and was dreading it blowing his cover. 

“Are you sure?” She asked, folding up Jake’s blanket which she had folded up with his luggage as a just in case. His eyes lingered on it and the tears refused to disappear. He nodded.

“You know what it means? I’ll take this stuff home with me?” Amy looked pointedly at the blanket then toward Jake, wincing when she heard a whimper creep up from between his pursed lips. Another nod, and a hesitant “Yeah.”   
But his voice had cracked, and Amy was sure he was about to burst into tears. “Oh, Jake.” She pulled him into her arms again as though he had not just left them and squeezed, finding him falling to a quiver in her grip much too quickly. When they pulled away for a second time, Jake’s eyes were red and puffy, and the tip of his nose had blossomed red, too. Amy stroked his cheek and pressed her lips to his, even if his lips were salty where the tears had dribbled. “You’re going to be okay.” She promised. She didn’t believe that, but by God she needed Jake to believe it if this was going to work.

“You two.” Then a more pointed, “Jake. I’m sorry, but we don’t have much time.”

Holt. Both Jake and Amy turned toward the voice that had chastised them, Jake knuckling at his eyes to stop the tears, Amy standing up straight as if nothing was wrong.

“Are you ready to leave?” Holt asked Jake. Jake was about to nod - a lost nod, but a nod nonetheless - when Amy slid in between them. “Actually, sir.” She said in the most calm and clipped tone she could manage. “I have something I’d like to give you.”  
Not even Jake realised Amy was planning on giving Holt a gift. He tried not to notice the envious feeling that punched him in the tummy as he did so. _He_ belonged to Amy, not Holt. Where was his gift?

Holt looked surprised and expectant, but Amy had made it clear that this was something not to be shown to Jake - and, Holt surmised, not actually a gift at all. He let Amy half ass some excuse to Jake and - with the promise that this would be prompt - moved toward the car and away from both Jake’s eyeline and earshot.

Amy took a deep breath. She seemed to be doing an awful lot of psyching herself up for what looked to be a thick binder of some sort.   
“This is for you. You need it.” she said, holding out the blue binder. “I don’t know if you’re going to be near Jake, or able to check in on Jake, or— or whatever, but if you are - you need this. You need to read this. Things will... things will make sense.”

Holt took the binder with an unsure look to his eye. He didn’t glance at it again - it didn’t cross his mind - until long after Jake had intermittently cried his way through their drive to Florida, long after Jake had cried because Holt was his neighbour and he wasn’t being left alone after all, and long after Jake had eaten a ghastly looking pipe of pastry and pizza in the middle of his kitchen after Holt had settled him in, yes, while he was still crying.   
Settling down in bed with a mug of warm tea, Holt flicked on the bedside lamp and heaved the binder into his lap. On what was going to be one of many lonely nights, Holt supposed he had to entertain himself somehow. He flicked the binder to the first page and haltingly began to read.

Amy was right. Things made sense - not perfect sense by any stretch but sense, and Holt wondered how he hadn’t picked up on it before now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Coral Palms episodes were actually the episodes that inspired this fic. Specifically the part about Jake crying in the hot tub with his soggy burrito. Because I'm evil.


	6. Rule 17: Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rule #17: Toys**   
>  _Toys are an enriching and educational experience for any child, and Jacob is no different. I have gifted him some toys which he appears to like. Currently, the police vehicle and the stegosaurus plush toy seem to be his favourites. He has named the stegosaurus, ‘Eggy’ and I foresee it not ever disappearing from his line of sight for the near future. It may be wise to purchase extra in case this one suffers a laundry based casualty..._

Putting the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle in its rightful place, captain Ray Holt sat back and mumbled with contentment at the picture slowly coming together before him. 

“What’s that?” asked a tiny voice behind him. It was small, and soft, and only just about brushed his ears, but it was enough to startle Raymond nonetheless. Yes, he had forgotten about his not-so-new friend.

“It’s a jigsaw puzzle.” He said, gesturing to the pieces strewn around him. “You must’ve heard of jigsaw puzzles, Jake.” His voice held what was possibly the tiniest shred of incredulity as he looked between the boy and his unfinished puzzle. “John Spilsbury? Cartographer?”  
Jake looked bewildered, his eyes wide as he shook his head at Holt. He didn’t even know what that word meant.  
Holt seemed to read him instantly, as he rolled his eyes and slowed down, enunciating his words carefully. “He invented the jigsaw puzzle. This,” he gestured to the jigsaw puzzle coming together before him, “is a Monet painting. The Red Boats of Argenteuil.”  
Again, Jake had no idea what Holt was telling him, and it kinda sounded like he blew a raspberry at the end. “I like boats.” He offered with a nod, clinging onto the two words that fell from Holt’s mouth that he understood. “Can I help?”

“Of course you can,” Holt nodded, expecting Jake to stay where he was — just a little way away, standing over the puzzle and overlooking every piece.  
He did no such thing. Appearing to have no shame whatsoever Jake barrelled his way into Holt’s lap and sat there, ignoring Holt’s grunt of surprise. “Ready.” he announced, a determined frown coming to his face.  
Holt had no choice but to accept it, not entirely sure he wanted to push Jake off of his lap and risk a further meltdown.  
“Okay..” he sighed, dipping his head to peer around Jake’s. 

The two worked in silence for at least an hour; Holt calm and concentrating, Jake considerably more frustrated. He turned pieces this way, that way, he looked at them upside down and right side up, he stuck them down and watched as they sprung up and bopped him on the nose. After the fourth piece springing free, Jake grunted and folded his arms. Watching Jake carefully, Holt’s own movements drew to a stop. “Jigsaw puzzles are hard work,” he commented with a nod in a feeble attempt to placate him, even if he found jigsaw puzzles rather easy. 

“Can’t do it. Don’t like these. They’re stupid.” Jake muttered. 

Holt studied him carefully. He was doing that thing again where he read Jake like he was a storybook. It made Jake’s stomach squirm and he tried to shy away from his glare. “Jake?” Holt asked, a rumble weaving into his voice that seemed to dribble into Jake’s anxious belly and calm him instantly, “It doesn’t matter. Why don’t you find something else to do?”

Jake blinked at him with clear confusion and for just a moment taking refuge in the warm dark look of Holt’s brown eyes. Then just as abruptly he shook it off, looked around, and shrugged; every inch the petulant child. “Like...?”

“Did you not bring anything with you?” It was Holt’s turn to look puzzled. He would have assumed that Amy would have let Jake bring some possessions should they calm him, given his... condition. It wasn’t as if the Witness Protection Programme didn’t allow for him to - provided, of course, the items were small and rather indistinguishable. Of course, Larry may not have suckled at a pacifier before bedtime — but he may still have kept his childhood teddy bear.

“My movies? Yeah.” Jake said lightly, hugging himself. He had brought his entire Die Hard movie collection, as well as Guardians of the Galaxy, the Harry Potters, and Jurassic Park. He figured that Larry was allowed to like those movies too - because he was Larry and he said so. But, dare he say it, he was getting fed up of watching movies. He missed having lots to do (sitting around all day long made him feel fidgety) and he missed cuddling with Amy before bed and he missed his milk too.

“No, I mean..” Holt gestured to the puzzle. “Toys?”  
Jake frowned and shook his head. “I don’t have toys.”  
“...no toys? Not even at home, with Amy?” Holt probed gently. Surely Jake must have been mistaken. 

Jake almost looked confused, but then the look of confusion was replaced by something sad. “My dad says toys are for babies and if big boys have them they’re sissies.” He said in a matter-of-fact kind of way, still hugging himself. Amy had never asked him to get toys, anyway. He was allowed to watch cartoons and have milk and dress up like he wanted, but no toys. He didn’t quite know why. Amy had never brought it up, and he supposed that she thought the same as his dad.  
Sometimes they had a toy catalogue posted through their door. Amy said it was for her niece or for Mason because Amy never knew what to get them for Christmas or for a birthday.  
Sometimes when they had the toy catalogue posted through their door Jake would spend long, furtive hours looking at each glossy page (curled up at 2am under a blanket in the living room, flashlight in hand) and marking off the toys he wanted most of all. Then if Amy saw all the wobbly circles around the pictures he had to say, ‘oh, I thought Mason would like that toy a lot, it’s cool,’ and try not to be too jealous when it turned up neatly wrapped in Christmas wrapping foil with a big ‘MASON’ tag on the front.

Holt noticed the change in tone immediately. Jake seemed distant somehow, as if he wasn’t in Florida with him but elsewhere.  
“Your dad can’t stop you now, Jake.” Holt reminded, gentleness evident in his tone. Jake’s words had hit him somewhere, an odd thorny bristle right in his chest. It didn’t quite make sense to him how Amy - or Jake’s father for that matter - could overlook such an important thing. Toys were an enriching part in any child’s life, even if that child was six feet tall. 

“Toys are for sissies.” Jake repeated, curling in tighter to himself.

“What about my jigsaw puzzle?” Holt pointed out in that annoyingly smug grown up tone of voice that only annoyingly smug grown ups could make. “Does that make me a sissy?”

Jake didn’t even have to hesitate, although the small frown on his face remained. “No!” 

“Well then.” Holt said.

Jake shrugged. He put the puzzle piece down and looked toward the door. “I think I am going to go make dinner now.” 

Holt was sure it was just an excuse to leave; in this state he wasn’t quite sure Jake was able to make himself dinner. “Are you sure? I will prepare you some dinner if you like.” He said quietly. Jake shook his head and stood up, muttering a soft, ‘no thank you’. This came out in what the binder termed, ‘his big boy voice’ so Holt decided there was no point in trying to pull him back. “If you need me, you know just where I am, Jake.” He reminded softly as Jake disappeared. Jake didn’t respond, but Holt knew he had heard him

The following day Holt awoke with fresh purpose; he knew exactly what he needed to do. Jake seemed to be in fine working order with the events of the previous day presumably forgotten judging by the fact that Jake didn’t bother him and the Captain couldn’t hear him crying through the thin walls of his bedroom.  
Thoughts of his plan kept Holt pepped up and energised as he went about his day as ‘Greg’, to the point where he found himself paying extra attention to the neighbourhood gossip. It reached 2pm before he was able to set the plan into motion... and only regretted the fact that Jake couldn’t be here with him like he should’ve been. But for Jake to have been with him would have risked everything - revealing their identities, potentially blowing open the case... and exposing Jake’s littlespace. It was too much of a risky move for Holt to even consider it, but waiting until their stint under witness protection was over was risky in itself.

Quietly, he stepped inside the toy store.  
~

Holt knocked on Jake’s door. Jake answered, and Holt certainly didn’t like the look that greeted him; Jake looked exhausted - face pale, bags under eyes.  
“Larry,” Holt said pointedly.  
Jake sniffled at him and opened the door wider, giving Holt a decent look at his face. Holt’s eyes crinkled. “I thought I told you to come over if there was anything wrong.” He said softly. Jake sniffled once more and rubbed his eyes. “I tried. You were out, Greg.” He mumbled.

Holt sighed and scratched a hand over his face, trying to force back the thorn of guilt brewing in his gut. “Yes. I was on a... secret mission. Please, come over.”

Jake frowned and stepped out.  
~

“What is this?” Jake stared down at the rectangular wicker basket that was now taking pride of place in Holt’s living room, in the corner next to that weird fancy plant with the funny name. Holt had seemed quite insistent he open it and look inside stating that whatever was inside was “extremely exciting”. Jake wasn’t quite sure he trusted Holt’s definition of, “extremely exciting” but still Holt insisted, and so he lifted the lid. 

There, inside, was...

was...

Jake wasn’t quite sure he had taken this all in. There was a small bag of Mega-Blocks that looked bigger than he was. There was a plastic police car with flashing red-and-blue police sirens. There was a small train set, with a so-red-it-gleamed steam engine and a small loop-de-loop railroad track that, admittedly, Holt may have got for himself. There was a giant jigsaw puzzle made for a child’s hands, with chunky rounded pieces and a glossy picture of cartoonish safari animals printed on the front. There was a four pack of play-doh and cutters - red, turquoise, green and yellow; star, circle, triangle, butterfly.  
But best of all, was the fluffy stuffed dinosaur - khaki green with round blue spikes, glassy eyes and a soft, not-so-scary smile. 

Jake opened his mouth. 

He closed it again. 

Then he tried to speak, couldn’t, and let out a squeak of surprise instead, diving for the dinosaur and holding it in a death grip. “Where did you get all this?” 

“The toy store,” Ray responded with a short shrug, “Where else, Jacob?”

 _Jacob._  
Jake felt his insides twist happily at just the sound of his name. Which was stupid, really. But... well, he hadn’t been called Jacob since he was a very little boy. Not even Amy called him Jacob. It made him feel really very small indeed. “I... I love it!” He squeaked happily, diving over to Holt before he could stop himself and think about what he was doing and barrelling into his lap with loud appreciative giggles. “Thank you!”  
(Holt wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting by way of responses, but it certainly wasn’t this and it certainly wasn’t something he felt adequately prepared for in any form. Nevertheless he squeezed Jake lightly. His mouth twitched at the corners in a way that might have been a smile. “You are very welcome, Jacob.” He said, voice all tender soft like velvet.)

Jake stayed in his embrace but fidgeted slightly all the same, turning his new dinosaur friend around and around in his hands. “What dinosaur do you think this is?” He asked after a couple of moments of deliberation, holding the dinosaur out a few inches away from Holt’s face as if the man had suddenly gotten very short sighted. 

Holt made a show of animatedly studying the dinosaur, with comically exaggerated expressions to match that forced a few bubbling giggles to erupt from the boy in his lap. “Well..” he proposed thoughtfully, “Judging by the angle of the spikes...” he pointed them out, “...and the length of the tail, I would wager that he is a stegosaurus, Jacob.”

“St-egg-o-saw-rus.” Jake said slowly, nodding. He thought about it. “M’gonna call him Eggy.”

“Eggy?” Holt said, the tiniest hint of amusement tinging his voice as he looked sideways at the boy in his lap. 

“Eggy the stegosaurus!” Jake declared in his ‘of course, what else?’ sort of voice. He grinned, and slid from Holt’s lap at long last, settling with a gentle, ‘oompf’ on the rug and immediately reaching for his mega-blocks. “M’ gonna make Eggy a house to live in.” he told Holt, who nodded. “Fantastic, Jacob.” He said in his trademark neutral tone, moving off toward the kitchen. “I am going to begin preparing dinner, is there anything you’d like?”

“Macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets!” Jake demanded. 

Holt shook his head. “Certainly not.” If he was looking after Jacob, he was deciding what he ate, and he was not eating processed junk. It was written in the binder, too, so even Amy agreed. Granted he did humour Jake and prepare some dinosaur-shaped chicken pieces along with the broccoli, green beans and corn he had made, as he wasn’t sure Jake would enjoy the baked salmon he had made himself, and did not anticipate putting Jake in time out this evening. This situation in itself was taking some getting used to.

“Oh no, Eggy, it’s the cops!” The sound of Jake’s happy laughter floated through the kitchen and lifted Holt’s spirits ten-fold as he prepared dinner. With the salmon baking in the oven, Holt settled at the dinner table, binder opened to a clean page.

**Rule #17: Toys**  
_Toys are an enriching and educational experience for any child, and Jacob is no different. I have gifted him some toys which he appears to like. Currently, the police vehicle and the stegosaurus plush toy seem to be his favourites. He has named the stegosaurus, ‘Eggy’ and I foresee it not ever disappearing from his line of sight for the near future. It may be wise to purchase extra in case this one suffers a laundry based casualty..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate the jump into Holt’s strand was a bit rushed, but let’s be real - if this was playing out in real life, it’d take a lot of getting used to, and I wanted to keep this relatively short and sweet rather than going for a more ‘true to life’ representation that’d take a little slower and make this fic longer. 
> 
> This was the first chapter I wrote, and it’s lowkey my favourite. I much prefer Holt and Jake’s dynamic in comparison to Amy and Jake’s!


	7. Rule 18: Duplicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rule #18: Duplicate**   
>  _If there is a way to make mess Jake Peralta will make it regardless of however many times you tell him not to._   
>  _Eggy has already had a tomato soup based casualty and poor Jacob is distraught. Getting duplicate plush toys is a wise plan._

“This is some really yummy food, Captain.” Jake said cheerfully in between chews of his toast. It was lunchtime and Captain Holt had prepared him a simple meal; tomato soup with cheese-on-toast cut into stars, but by the way Jake was praising him you’d have sworn that Holt had made him a five star Michelin restaurant quality meal. 

“Thank you, Jacob. You’re very welcome, but next time please swallow your food before speaking.” Holt told him in his tender grumbly sort of voice; the one that Jake liked best because it was only ever used for him.  
He folded his hands on the table and watched the child; saw his meek nod of understanding before he resumed his messy eating. The child appeared to have some sort of ritual of dunking the stars into the tomato soup, sucking it off each point, then dunking again and finally eating. The problem was, he dunked with such ferocity that the soup splattered, the plastic bowl trembled, and ‘Eggy’, the child’s stegosaurus, looked dangerously close to flopping into the soup bowl. Holt hesitated. “I think perhaps that your stegosaurus should go and nap rather than joining you for lunch, Jake.”  
He indicated the dinosaur again. A voice in the back of his mind told him that he had already had this conversation once prior to lunch and it had yielded nothing, but there was no harm in trying again.

Jake looked at the dinosaur and shook his head insistently, sticking his chin out. “Eggy has to have lunch too,” he explained.  
Holt sighed at him. “Yes, I am aware of the stegosaurus’ eating habits.” He said. The voice in the back of his mind (which sounded increasingly like Kevin) teased him for humouring the child, although he was sure that the stegosaurus lived primarily on a diet of leafy greens and not tomato soup and cheese on toast. “But Eggy looks like he’s about to—“  
Before he could even finish his sentence he was cut off by an unhappy whine from Jake’s direction. “Eggy got tomato soup on him!” Jake wailed, lifting the sopping dinosaur from his bowl.  
For a long long moment Holt closed his eyes. Then he opened them again and stood with another weary sigh. “Yes, I warned you. Now Eggy must have a bath. Are you finished with lunch?”

Jake whimpered, barely nodding as Holt took his beloved dinosaur and watched as it disappeared off toward the kitchen with Holt and the plates and cups. He was still sitting at the table, staring at his feet with eyes that were wet with tears, when Holt returned.  
”I think it is time that you had some sleep, Jacob.” He said, crouching down to Jake’s level and catching his gaze. No wonder Jake was so upset, it was past his required ‘nap’ timeslot. He offered his hand.

Sniffling, Jake took it and they went to the sofa.

Holt wasn’t the greatest at bedtimes, nowhere near as good as Amy was.  
Jake spent what felt like a million years tossing and turning in his blanket cocoon, that lovely sleepy feeling not draping itself over him no matter how many times he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. His mind was too frazzled, and no matter how many times he told his brain that it was quiet time, a million different thoughts whirled and danced in his head. No amount of tossing and turning could make the words in his brain disappear, or slow down, or dribble down through his brain and out of his ears. He had struggled with this back at home with Amy; usually after a particularly heavy case. Amy wasn't so good with words after heavy cases when his brain went into maximum overdrive; but what she lacked in her words she made up for in her actions and Jake found that just one tight cuddle, where he was swaddled in close, made everything slow down a little and the world fall away.  
He could not achieve this sensation for love nor money in Holt's pokey Coral Palms apartment. He had blamed it on the settee, which was too soft in some places and too firm in others - so Holt had plumped the feather cushions a little more.  
Then he had blamed it on the light that blared in through the windows and sat on his face - so Holt drew the curtains and dimmed the overhead light.  
Then he had blamed it on the television, even though the television was broadcasting an exceedingly dull programme about antique milk jugs that, in any other situation, would have him snoring and dribbling in ten seconds flat - so Holt simply switched the television off entirely and decided to pick up a book.  
Finally he had blamed it on the comforter, which was not a comforter but a 'decorative throw', whatever one of those was. It looked to be made out of soft brown wool, but the wool was scratchy and rubbed at him like sandpaper. Holt was apologetic, but did not have a softer replacement on this occasion.  
It was no use. Holt did all--most of--the right things, but he was nowhere near as good at getting Jake to sleep. Jake knew exactly what he was missing, and it had nothing to do with the comforter or the volume of the television or the overhead light -- it was that he was missing that physical closeness. Holt wasn't touchy feely and Jake found the thought of requesting a cuddle from the Captain too mortifying to indulge in. Of course he had hugged the Captain before but that... that was different. That was when it was okay to, like as a thank you for supporting him at work or when his littlespace overwhelmed him. Asking was a whole different ballgame, and as much as Jake enjoyed sport, that was a ballgame he didn't want to throw himself into. Eggy was a great substitute - soft, warm, fitted just right in the crook of his arm; but now that he was in the washing machine, Jake really felt his loss. The tiny voice in the back of his brain clawed at him and reminded him that even though he didn't have anyone or anything to cuddle up with, a bottle of milk would lull him to sleep just as effectively, but... well, Jake hadn't exactly brought the issue of milk up to the Captain. You would think that, being Little, Jake would have no shame and would ask outright; but somehow, Jake's littlespace made him feel all the more timid and shy. It was a feeling he wasn't quite used to, but it was compelling enough when it sat as a brooding and sickly puddle in the bottom of his belly to stop him from asking altogether. While Jake was big, the topic had never emerged, and so Jake was here, in Coral Palms, milk-less. Oh, of course, he could have milk in a mug - but milk in a mug was no match for the sensation of the rubber nipple on his tongue, the way the milk filled his mouth as if it were liquid silk, the rhythmic suckles and warmth that drew his eyes to a close.  
Plus, Amy had always said that Jake was too little to be trusted to make himself a bottle of warm milk; that he might burn himself if he attempted to do so -- and for fear of both burning himself and facing Amy's wrath, Jake had never attempted it.  
Huffing after the fifty millionth twist, Jake frustratedly sat up as he fought back fat babyish tears. “I can’t sleep, Captain.” He pouted, voice thick and coated in that ‘I’m about to cry’ tell tale tone of voice. He scrunched the thin and scratchy comforter in his hands and looked anxiously at Holt, who was calmly flicking through not (now that Jake was getting a closer look) a book but some fancy looking journal with a glossy jacket; Jake couldn’t decipher the cover title no matter how hard he tried.

”Count sheep,” said the Captain.

Jake huffed, louder this time, and this caused Holt to put down his book. “Why can you not sleep, Jacob?” He asked, softly. Jake sniffled. He had been doing so good with holding back his tears, and then Holt used that special soft voice and here he was, tears about to drip, lump in his throat even bigger than before. “I need Eggy.” he said in a tiny voice.

”Pardon?”

”I need Eggy,” Jake said, letting out a little unhappy sob before he could stop himself. “I need Eggy out of the washing machine. I need him, I need him, I need him!”  
It was useless. He couldn’t sleep at all. Eggy had only been around for a couple of days, but he needed Eggy, he was a good cuddler now that Amy wasn’t here. And what if -- what if Eggy never came out of the washing machine? Amy had always said that the washing machine ate their socks, so what if Floridian washing machines were partial to stegosauruses with tomato soup all over them?!

The Captain sighed softly and marked where he was in the journal, striding toward Jake. He crouched down in front of the boy. ”Eggy needed a bath. He was covered in tomato soup.” He explained in between reaching out to wick away the fat escapee tears that had managed to roll down Jake’s cheeks, with the pad of his thumb. “Do you want to see?”

Jake hesitated, then nodded.

Holt took his hand and led him toward the washing machine.

True to his word, there was Eggy. Spinning slowly in the washing machine, dripping wet with suds coming off of his spikes, but no tomato soup in sight. Jake touched his fingers to the round window and snivelled. “Hi, Eggy.”

”There. He is safe, and when his bath is finished I will give him back.” Holt said. “Now, I think you’re very over-tired, young man. You need some sleep.” the two entered the living room again, Holt’s large hand on the small of Jake’s back to guide him. It was such a tiny gesture but comfort flooded Jake’s body at the touch. Still, he sniffed as he climbed back into his blanket cocoon. “Can’t sleep.” 

Holt thought about it for a moment. “Would you like me to read you a book?” He offered.  
He was surprised to see Jake hesitate. Jake felt bad, but if Captain’s plan was to bore him to sleep by reading one of those fancy academic journals, Jake thought it better to simply lie on the sofa. “What book is it going to be?” He asked timidly, fingers coming to his mouth to suckle at for lack of pacifier. “Not a boring one?”

”Oh no, not boring. I think you will appreciate this book very much, Jacob.” Holt said. He sat next to Jake on the sofa, a new book in hand - where he had magicked it up from, Jake wasn’t too sure. He opened it, propped it up on the arm of the sofa, and quietly began to read.  
“There were animals on Earth long before there were any people. These animals were called prehistoric animals. The most famous prehistoric animals were the dinosaurs.”

Jake gasped around his fingers, eyes sparkling with interest. This was a good book. Holt continued to read and Jake continued to listen and suckle on his fingers. Somewhere along the way his head landed in Holt’s lap where he was brazenly using him as a pillow. Somewhere even further along the way Holt tousled his hair — usually when he noticed Jake stirring and waking rather than drifting off. Somewhere furthest away from all of these events Holt’s voice got quieter and quieter, smaller and smaller, until Jake was fast asleep and dreaming of diplodocuses. Only then did Holt close the book and sigh down at Jake, a mess of arms and legs and comforter, on his lap. 

He knew he was right.

**Rule #18: Duplicate**  
_If there is a way to make mess Jake will make it regardless of however many times you tell him not to. Eggy has already had a tomato soup based casualty and poor Jacob is distraught. Getting duplicate plush toys is a wise plan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake likes dinosaurs. I've made it canon.


	8. Rule 19 & Addendum: Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rule #19: Boundaries**  
>  Jacob needs to know his boundaries if he’s going to manage his ‘adult’ headspace with his ‘little’ headspace in an effective manner; imperative to us apprehending Figgis and his return to work. This means punishment if necessary. Nothing extreme, but some quiet time. Be consistent and do not buckle under pressure.

When Holt had found out that Jake had been lying to him, that he hadn’t landed himself a job but instead had been sneaking off to a storage container for a peek at his files, the urge to berate him (or stick him in a god-damned time out, given his mindset) had gotten more unbearable than ever. But it had also given him, oddly, a sense of relief. They had been at Coral Palms in Florida for months, no end in sight, and while Holt had adapted marvellously (so he thought) to this strange new routine between him and Jake, he had found himself hoping from time to time that Jake would unearth himself from somewhere underneath all the dinosaurs and Lego bricks. The fact that he had at least connected with work, gave Holt a decent glimmer of hope that maybe — just maybe — this wouldn’t be their forever. Hell, it answered the question that was lingering in the back of Holt’s mind at the same time; namely whether Jake would be deemed fit to return to work when he had their psych evaluation upon return to the precinct. 

Although, Holt couldn’t help but wonder why in the hell Jake had decided to ship over what seemed like an entire precinct’s worth of work notes but not one baby item to help him get through. 

That certainly would have helped his attention (and Holt’s patience) some today, Holt surmised. The pair had pencilled in a day to look through all their files on Figgis to see if there was something, anything, to pull them out of this mess. Holt had made sure Jake was comfortable with it, that he was sure he could keep himself together long enough to focus, and off they had trotted to the storage containers to work. Jake had managed a decent two hours, but now his concentration was evidently beginning to wane. He had lost focus, and preferred to spin around in his spinny-chair rather than listen to what Holt was theorising on or looking into his own work. “I’m bored, Captain,” he whined softly, shards of his ‘little voice’ creeping through as he spun on his chair. 

Captain Holt sighed. “Take a break for lunch, then.”

Jake was about to rise from his chair when Holt gave his best stern ‘ah, ah!’ and stopped him in an instant. He sunk down once more and offered Holt a sullen look. 

Holt pulled a satchel from under a nearby box and pulled some plastic packaging out. Specifically a packet of goldfish crackers, some cheese dip and cucumber, a small teddybear shaped sponge cake, and a carton of apple juice. He did not, under any circumstances, trust Jake to navigate his way to the closest sandwich shop and back no matter how grown up he declared he was - because Holt suspected quite the opposite, and seeing how Jake’s face lit up at the snacks he had been given, his suspicions were correct. 

Twenty minutes later, Jake had devoured his lunch while Holt had poured over another case file. “Feeling better?” Holt asked.

“Still bored.” 

Holt didn’t look up. “Do some more work, please. Just thirty minutes.”

Jake grumbled, but reluctantly picked out a blue highlighter from Holt’s pot of stationery and dove in on a casefile. 

An unspecified amount of time that was a lot longer than thirty minutes passed on before Holt realised Jake had been unusually silent for quite a while, and for a moment Holt felt awful for not noticing. “Jacob?” He asked softly, in his small voice that was usually reserved for ‘little’ Jake, as an attempt to gauge whether the boy had fallen asleep on him. “How is your case file coming along?”

“Huh?” Jake said without looking up, bent over a piece of paper. “Oh… it’s goin’ really good.” He grinned.  
Immediately, Holt knew that something was wrong - Jake’s voice had a distance to it, as if he was a little too far away and not as focused as Holt would have liked him to be.  
“Here,” Holt said suspiciously, “why don’t you let me check over your work?”

“Oh!” Jake smiled, nodding over excitedly as he thrust the case file out toward Holt. “Look, isn’t this great?”  
His voice sounded so bright and so promising that Holt’s heart soared as he prised the casefile from Jake’s hands… only to promptly drop dead into the soles of his feet. Holt was a man of pride, and one of the qualities he prided himself on was his ability to keep calm in the toughest of situations but—Goddamn—was Jake testing that today. The boy was babbling next to him; Holt could see Jake’s lips moving a mile a minute out of the corner of his eye but had easily tuned out whatever he was saying in favour of paying attention to the sickly cocktail of panic and anger rising in his throat. “You…” trembling he turned the piece of paper over and over in his hands, unsure of whether he was trying to burn its contents to memory or blank it entirely. “You drew a picture of a dinosaur on…” the paper turned again, Holt in some form of autopilot, his voice thick and loaded with incredulity. “…the back of a report on Mrs. Flackett’s murder?!”

(A horrifying case; the murder weapon being the scoop she used to clean the litter box belonging to her several mangy cats. The perpetrator, her local veterinarian; motive, to collect unpaid fees toward vet bills.)

Jake shrank slightly, although his eyes did not grow wet this time. “…Dinosaurs are cool.” He offered in a whisper, shrugging. “Mrs. Flackett wouldn’t have died if she had a pterodactyl instead of a cat.”

As much as Holt agreed that yes, a pterodactyl would have been ample protection for Mrs. Flackett rather than her felines, this ultimately told him where exactly Jake’s headspace was at the moment and that was… well, nowhere helpful. As charming as a picture it was (he had indeed coloured in a pterodactyl, bright yellow with highlighter-blue spikes) it was both unrelated to the case (well, unless Figgis hired eighty year olds as henchmen nowadays) and told Holt that perhaps Jake was less fit to work than he had thought initially. What was he supposed to do? Even if Jake somehow passed his psych evaluation, he couldn’t spend his time in the precinct scribbling over completed case files the second his mental headspace began to wane. Of course, should someone be there to supervise him, maybe no incidents would occur; but equally, it would be unfair to remove detectives from their positions to babysit a co-worker. There was no other solution: Jake had to learn his boundaries.  
Simply telling him not to do something was not the most successful of methods — the incident with his dinosaur stuffed toy proof enough of that.  
No. Holt had quite the feeling that he was going to have to get down to Jake’s level in this particular case. Considering the little tremble to his voice and the sheer innocence flooding through, that level was… particularly low.  
“Jake, this is…” he waved the piece of paper, voice firm, jaw set, treat-him-like-a-colleague chanting at the forefront of his mind. “This is unacceptable. These cases are important. They are not for you to scribble on when you feel like it, and most certainly not without asking permission first. This was very bad behaviour, Jacob, and I am putting you in time out.” He yanked out a nearby chair and pushed it to face the wall before indicating Jake to sit in it, steadfastly ignoring the chuckling voice in his head that berated him for saying something so... so out of the ordinary.

Jake didn’t quite know what to do with himself. There was a voice in the back of his head, a voice that was distant and trying to fight through, that told him he was being stupid and that Captain Holt was right, and _what the hell_ did he think he was doing that was a _casefile_! “You… you don’t like my picture?” was what he squeaked at last, lip in a pout. 

Holt did not justify that with a response. He indicated the chair again. With a whimper that might’ve been the beginning of a sob if it wasn’t for Holt shooting an icy glare in his direction, Jake sat.  
“You will sit there for ten minutes. You will sit there quietly, and will not get up unless I give you permission to. Do you understand, Jacob? Are you listening?”

Jake sniffled. “Uh huh.” 

Holt checked his watch, and nodded. “Ten minutes.”  
To be perfectly frank, he did not consider this punishment. Jake was clearly struggling, so having a couple of minutes of quiet time (while behind him Holt collected up their things ready to go home) would’ve been, in his eyes, beneficial to them both. He was not expecting such an upset reaction from Jake... nor was he expecting his resolve to weaken the second he heard the sniffles. In the back of his mind, Kevin was calling him a soft touch. Perhaps Jake wasn’t upset. Perhaps he was coming down with a particularly nasty case of influenza.  
Holt shut the clasp of his briefcase to the sound of Jake continuing to sniffle. “Alright,” The captain said regretfully after only a handful of minutes had passed. “You can come out of time out now.”

Jake slid from the chair, a pout evident on his face. He crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Holt said, frowning immediately. “Do you want to go back into the chair?”

Meekly, Jake shook his head. “I’m sorry for drawing on important work.” He whispered. “I just wanted to make you a picture.”

Holt’s tense face relaxed in an instant. Why was trying to punish Jake so difficult? What was Jake doing to him? One sniffle, one whispered, ‘I wanted to make you a picture’ and Holt’s veins felt as if they had sickly sugary sweetness flowing through them.  
Heh. He hoped this wasn’t going to bleed over into work. A thin smile tugged at the corners of his lips but he didn’t let it appear, instead choosing to clap an unsure-but-firm hand to Jake’s curls and run his fingers through them. It was a new gesture for the pair and while it felt alien to Holt it also felt perfectly justified. “You are… forgiven.” Holt told him —and that smile, which he had battled so hard with to keep from appearing on his face—did indeed appear as Jake relaxed into the touch rather than against it. “It would look perfect on the refrigerator I think, Jacob. Don’t you?” 

“You’re putting it on the fridge?!” Jake gasped, shifting on the balls of his feet. He couldn’t remember the last time he had anything put onto the fridge, not even when he was little. Daddy was never around and Mommy always said his pictures were nice but she said it with… with sad in her—like she wasn’t looking at his picture at all—and she bowed her head and smoked her cigarette and that was that.

“Of course I am.” Holt said, ushering the boy out of the storage cell to begin their journey home. “Why, a pterodactyl as fine as that one belongs in the best spot on the fridge.”

“With the magnet? The one I got you?” Jake clapped. “The…”

“…The gay cupcake magnet, yes.”

Jake cheered to himself. Holt rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He had hoped that the promise of the most coveted spot on the fridge was enough to keep Jake quiet as they began their journey home but it was quickly becoming evident that was not going to be the case. More pressing that that, he hoped that Jake was going to be able to get a grip of his headspace long enough so they could track down and apprehend Figgis when the time occurred…

…but that was a battle for another day. Right now he had an art gallery to explore; even if that art gallery consisted of one scribbled picture on the back of a casefile, wonkily attached to the fridge.

 **Rule #19: Boundaries**  
_Jacob needs to know his boundaries if he’s going to manage his ‘adult’ headspace with his ‘little’ headspace in an effective manner; imperative to us apprehending Figgis and his return to work. This means punishment if necessary. Nothing extreme, but some quiet time. Be consistent and do not buckle under pressure._ **Addendum:** _…Perhaps bribery with snacks?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was officially where the fic ended... but I have more ideas so :)  
> I had fun messing around and making my own cases for this one!


	9. the captain, the detective and the case of concussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laying semi conscious on a go-kart track both Holt and Jake risk having their covers blown open as an onlooker threatens to upload the embarrassing footage she has captured of them onto the internet. Unfortunately the incident throws them ten steps backwards and they end up admitted to hospital. Getting a freshly-plunged-into-littlespace Jake to be on his best behaviour so that the pair can be discharged together comes as somewhat of a challenge for Holt that requires a smidgen of creativity.

Lying on the floor of the go-kart track with his ears buzzing, pulse racing and vision somehow both double and blurred, Holt watched as seemingly in slow motion Jake got slammed by a kart and flipped over next to him, head connecting with the tarmac with an echoing _thwack_. A louder and considerably more ominous thwack than the sound his own head had made upon contact. This little display had amassed them an audience, with a nearby woman laughing and recording the fall on her phone in between crowing threats of uploading the video across the internet--most notable in amongst the bubbles of chatter and concern drifting in and out around him.  
This would have been the most pertinent issue for Holt... if it wasn’t for the fact that Jake was lying there, eyes closed, silent. Unusually, unnervingly silent in a way that made even Holt feel nervous. He had very much expected Jake to have burst into tears about now considering his, er, affliction. Then again, Jake had been trying his hardest to hold his 'little space' back while they worked... so perhaps...  
“Jake?” He hissed, willing for Jake’s eyes to open. “Are you okay?”

Jake’s eyes fluttered open slowly at the sound of Holt’s voice, and as the world around him danced and drifted he let out a moaning whimper. “I have owies... I have loadsa owies...”

Ah. That would be a resounding 'no'.

”It’s alright,” Holt murmured, dragging himself over to Jake and bowing over him to check he was focused — and grimacing to find that Jake’s stare was unusually distant and wetness was quickly spreading over the crotch of his shorts. “You.” He told the bolshy woman. “Call me an ambulance. Now.”  
Thankfully, the look on her face told Holt that she had listened. Jake was still whimpering on the ground, a hand coming to touch his forehead. Pain was radiating from the back of his skull and he was sure that an egg was beginning to form. “Owies,” he repeated with a whimper.  
Thankfully (or not, depending on how you looked at things) his condition meant that he hadn’t registered who the ambulance was for and what that meant - Holt didn’t want a meltdown right now.  
Sighing at Jake, Holt gently took his roaming hand down, for it wouldn’t be best for Jake to poke and prod at any injuries, before brushing the hair away from his face. “I will get you a bandaid. You will be fixed soon.” He said, hearing the wailing sirens of the called ambulance draw closer. Judging by Jake’s state, ‘a bandaid’ was an understatement.

Considering the video revealing their identities was about to go viral and Jake was laying under a mound of blankets in the back of an ambulance and whining about ‘owies’, ‘going peepee on hisself’ and wanting Amy and ‘his Eggy’ Holt remained his unflappable self. He was hoping that the suspected case of concussion the paramedics had tentatively diagnosed Jake with would be a suitable enough excuse for why Jake suddenly sounded like a child.  
“Sir,” a nearby paramedic murmured, gingerly touching the tender spot on Holt’s own scalp as they carried Jake into the hospital, “I’m afraid you need to leave him now. We need to get you both checked over.”

”I refuse to leave him,” Holt insisted, schooling his face so he didn’t wince when he was touched. Jake hadn’t cried but he had certainly been uneasy and Holt did not feel comfortable abandoning him in this state. But despite his protestations Holt was urged off in a different direction to Jake, who was instead shut up in a private room and tucked up into bed. He just about managed to catch a glimpse of Jake through the blurry window of the door and sighed seeing his face screwed up in upset. He tried not to notice the way Jake reached out for him, and was silent as he was escorted to his own room.  
~

"Sir it looks to me as if you have had a lucky escape," said the doctor on his rounds a hour or so later as he examined Holt who was sat up in bed. Apart from an ugly looking egg to the forehead which had been cleaned and glued, he had escaped concussion. Which he was grateful to hear, although he longed to hear how Jake had faired a considerable amount more. The consultant looked down at his notes and up at Holt again. "I will check you over in twenty minutes or so and if your obs are fine - and you have eaten dinner - you will be free to leave." nodded the consultant. Holt nodded quietly and watched the consultant leave as he sank back into bed. 

The consultant had left his notes behind. 

Could he...

No. That information was likely confidential and shouldn't be compromised. Not for his eyes.

Holt looked around. 

He dived to the notes, when no one was looking, and rifled through them. 

_Peralta, Jake. Rm 206. Suspected mild concussion._

Holt stared at the filled bowl on his nearby bed tray. Soup. He had been given soup. He lugged both it and himself over to the nearby sink, poured the grey slop down it, and set off.  
~

Jake felt someone's hand run through his hair. His eyes were closed but at the feather-light touch he squirmed and shifted away, face crumpling. "Don't do that," he mumbled sleepily, moving his head even though his head felt like a bowling ball on his neck. "M' sleepin'."  
The touch had brought Jake back to reality somewhat; reality where he was sleepy and achey and kinda needed a little peepee. He fidgeted in the bedsheets and tried to go still and sleep some more, but his legs were tense and had that wriggly feeling in them. Which was also in his tummy. Okay, so maybe it was a big peepee. "Now you made me have to pee," he grumbled, sitting up dizzily. Somehow he thought he was talking to the doctor (the nice one who had given him a dinosaur bandaid when he was brave and didn't cry when he had his IV inserted) but the sight of Holt in front of him made him squirm, blush and reach out toward him all in one go. "Captain!" he squeaked. 

Holt pulled him close. "Hello, Jake."

Jake squirmed into the hug. "Captain," he said uncomfortably, "I really do need a pee-pee."

Holt sighed. What a welcome. "Alright," he said, "I'll get you a bedpan."  
~

It turned out that Jake had been pumped with Tylenol (hence the IV) and although sleepy he too was able to leave alongside Holt provided he ate the dinner provided by the hospital and had a day or two of bedrest. 

Which was proving difficult.

”Don’t wan’ it.” a sat-up Jake looked side-eyed at the bowl of slop in front of him, pulling a face. It didn't look right. He didn't trust it. Inside the bowl was a puddle of pale sludgy green, with small yellow tubes floating miserably on top. The small tubes looked a bit like octopus tentacles, and the sludge looked like... sludge. Octopus-innard-sludge. In fact, it looked rather like something that old people ate, and Jake didn't quite like old-people sludge.  
Usually if there was any food that Jake didn't want to eat--especially if he thought it looked like old people food!--Amy always tried to make it better with sprinkles. He had asked the lady manning the dinner cart with hope in his eyes if she had sprinkles to put on top, but she had looked at him in a funny squinty way (as if he had two heads) and said, 'no'.  
Beside him, Jake felt Holt pull himself closer - yes, despite the fact Jake was laid on a very tiny hospital bed that was just about big enough for himself, somehow the Captain had squeezed up too.  
Holt sighed; dipping the spoon into the bowl, lifting it out, watching the soup dribble off and land back into the bowl with a splash. “It’s chicken noodle soup, Jacob.” He countered softly, even though he really was inclined to agree and wonder whether the bowl had fallen into a nuclear reactor during production, considering the look of it. “I am positive you like chicken noodle.”  
Well, Jake was sure that whatever was in that bowl had met neither a chicken nor a noodle. He made a little pouting noise and folded his arms, earning himself another sigh from Holt. “The doctors say that as soon as you eat, you will be able to leave. One step closer to going _home_ , Jake. You miss Amy, yes?”

Jake nodded. 

“Then eat.” Holt pushed the bowl closer. The pout that had fallen off of Jake’s face returned with a vengeance. Holt stared at him for a long, slow moment. Of course, it was foolish of him to have forgotten that Jake had a stubborn streak that was longer than the declaration of god-damned independence. Pulling the bowl closer to himself, he put the spoon in the bowl and scooped up a level spoonful, blowing off the steam. Steadily, he placed the full spoon in front of Jake’s lips - Jake’s thin, pressed tightly closed - lips. “Open.” He requested sternly.  
Jake did nothing of the sort. No way was he letting Holt feed him the chicken noodle soup that looked as if it had been fed to an octopus and then put back into his bowl.  
Holt nudged the spoon gently against his lips once more. “Jacob, open your mouth,” he repeated. Slightly more sternly.  
The words nudged at Jake somehow because Holt saw him falter for just a moment, lip twitching. In response Holt channeled his best, most stern expression until—ever so slightly—Jake let his lips part, just enough for Holt to post the small spoonful of soup through. Jake hummed as he swallowed.  
”There.” Holt announced with happy finality. “That was hardly as awful as you thought."  
"You're right." Jake grimaced. "It was worser!"  
"Worse, Jake." Holt corrected. If Jake was going to be critical of things he may as well have been grammatically correct too. He stirred the soup with the spoon and drifted off into his own world, just about hearing Jake offer a sullen, 'worse, then'. Since he had snuck into Jake's room rather than stay in his own, he had been denied his own meal. Truthfully, he saw exactly the angle Jake was coming from when he turned down the soup. It really did look rather unappetising and, unfortunately, the colour and consistency of something that should've belonged in a catheter bag. But, by God, he was starving. The steamy, chicken-y heat of the soup wafted around his nostrils and every time a curl of steam tickled his nose his stomach would clench and rumble in woeful hunger. It was enough to push past the barrier of thoughts that told him how unappetising the soup looked-- he wanted it. He wanted it... but it was Jake's, and on every level except physically Jake was a child, and Holt wasn't sure if he was able to steal food from a child.  
Shaking off the rueful little devil telling him to dig in, he loaded another spoon with the runny liquid and held it out in front of Jake's lips once more. Again (although Holt wasn't sure he expected any less) Jake kept his lips firmly closed. Well...  
Holt scoffed lightly and, devil winning, plunged the spoon into his own mouth instead with only a pause to say, "suit yourself!", humming happily as the warm soup settled in his belly. Mm. It tasted better than it looked.

"You ate my soup!" Jake gawked in an accusatory tone as he looked back and forth between Holt and his infiltrated soup bowl, his lips twitching at the corners as if he was about to burst into giggles. "You're not allowed to eat my soup!"

"Why not?"  
Holt dipped the spoon again and looked at Jake with interest. 

"Because... because it's my soup!" Jake gasped. 

"You didn't open your mouth. That makes it mine by default." 

"No fair!"

"Is it not?" Holt held out another spoonful of soup level with Jake's mouth. This time, Jake's mouth was open and his gaze was expectant. Holt moved the spoon toward Jake's mouth but, at the last second, swerved it toward his own and swallowed with an overdramatic gulp. "Yum."  
Thankfully, this display sent Jake into a wild round of giggles and cackles and--praise be--forced him to grab onto the spoon and get some for himself. "Okay, my turn," he told Holt, leaning over protectively against his bowl as if it was the first, and tastiest, meal he had ever eaten and how dare Holt even attempt to steal some. He took the spoon and frowned, tongue poking a little between his teeth as he brought up a spoonful of soup. His weak hands shook a little and he suddenly had all the dexterity of a child but slowly he put the spoon to his mouth and sipped with a happy smile. Okay, Holt was right. The soup was kinda yummy. 

Holt frowned a little as he saw the shakiness of Jake's hands. Of course, it was to be entirely expected given his condition--but all the same it drew Holt down to Earth a considerable amount. Suddenly the Jake that he had been pandering to, the Jake that wasn't really a child, looked very much like a child. He watched again in silence as Jake slowly lifted a few spoonfuls toward his mouth. "Excuse me," he said at last in faux upset, "my tummy is hungry too." 

(Of all the sentences Holt had ever said, that one was the most embarrassing, but it was out there now.)

Jake continued to messily slurp at his soup like a puppy at its water-bowl. He paused, considered, and slowly held the full spoon out toward Holt. Holt leaned forward, only for Jake to drive the spoon into his own mouth. Entirely expected, of course.  
He scoffed, and Jake giggled.  
"My turn," he insisted, sending Jake into barrelling giggles again. The two went about this routine for a short while - Holt feeding himself rather than Jake and vice versa with Jake crumbling into peals of laughter every time even when his ribs ached - until finally the bowl was empty and the pair had decently full tummies. 

"Captain," Jake murmured sleepily as he laid down again with dizziness piling in on his head and warmth in his belly. He brought his free hand to his mouth and chewed on his fingers to comfort himself. "Wha's gonna happen wit' Figgis now?"

"Don't worry about that, Jake," Holt soothed. He didn't want Jake to think about work while he was in littlespace -- or while he was so fragile, for that matter. "Doesn't matter right now."

"But what's gonna happen?" Jake pressed urgently. His eyes were almost closed. 

Holt sighed. "Well," he began, "One of the onlookers took a video of us at the Fun Zone. If we let her upload it, it'll lead Figgis to us,"

"But we're in hospital," Jake murmured, puzzled.

Holt nodded. "The Nine Nine will be there to arrest him on our behalf, Jake." 

"Oh," Jake said. He supposed if he wasn't so sleepy, he would've been excited-- heck, this was a chance to see Amy! "I wanna show Amy my dinosaur bandaid." Rosa, too, because he was sue Rosa liked dinosaurs, because they were badass. Maybe even Charles.  
Slowly as he got lost in thought his eyes closed entirely and his face fell into one that looked more peaceful. 'I'm sure she'll like that very much, Jacob', Jake heard Holt say, but he suddenly felt too sleepy to make his mouth move in reply. 

"Captain?" he asked eventually, in what felt like an age since Holt had spoken. His voice was thick with drowsiness and even just making his mouth move felt like he was wading through treacle. 

"Mm?"

"Nine nine," Jake said, a giggle quirking in his mouth. 

Holt chuckled. It was a tiny chuckle -- well, more of a little hum if you were to delve into the specifics -- but still Jake thought it counted as a chuckle and so something warm and prideful welled in Jake's belly at just hearing it. 

"Nine nine," Holt agreed, petting his hair lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if you saw this one twice - I saved this as a draft, lost the draft on AO3 (no idea where it went tbh) and re-uploaded... then found the chapter. again. so thanks AO3.


	10. Rule 20: Tear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rule 20: Tear**  
>  Cheddar was playing with Eggy and Eggy got a tear. Eggy is not allowed to be with Cheddar anymore in case Cheddar wants to eat him. Captain Holt says that Cheddar is greedy and he eats a lot and I gotta be careful in case Cheddar thinks I can be eaten like Eggy was!

"Captain, c'n... c'n I stay at yours tonight?"

The question floored him, and for a long moment Holt stared at Jake to check that he hadn't been spending the last fifty minutes in some post-concussion stupor where Jake asked him outlandish things like.... like, 'can he stay the night'. Then again, stranger things had happened - namely, for one, the fact that Jake was curled up in the front seat cuddling a stuffed dinosaur and trying with earnest not to suck his thumb.  
He quirked a brow. "I would have thought you would prefer to spend your first night as Jake Peralta with Amy. Amy has your..." he trailed off, gesturing both to Jake's crotch and mouth in one motion.  
Would Jake not be longing to get back to... that? To Amy? He had howled the first night he had been parted from them - what had caused such a radical change of opinion?

"S'late, Captain." Jake mumbled drowsily, tucking Eggy under his chin as his eyelids began to droop. Meeting the Nine Nine after Figgis had been apprehended was not so straight forward as, 'you're done, go home with them'; their Witness Protection files had to be faxed through and that wouldn't happen officially until tomorrow morning. Not that tardiness had ever stopped anyone else from returning home before their freedom was officially granted, mind you, but even if Holt and Jake flouted those rules it still meant they had to cart their belongings with them. The thought of having to go home, wake Amy, unpack and go to bed seemed like a hard slog that set off a little spark of guilt inside Jake's chest. Amy had made it pretty clear that she had missed him, and Jake didn't doubt that she would happily jump up to see him if he turned up at the door of their apartment at 1am... but he suspected that Amy wanted to see... well... Jake. Big Jake, the one who would cuddle up to her and kiss her all over and make up for lost time. Not that Jake didn't want to do that-- but at the moment he didn't feel like he could. He needed... he needed to be small, just for one more night, before he got back into the rhythm of trying to be big and little in his life with Amy. Being with Holt meant he could achieve that. 

Holt hesitated. It was late, granted, and Kevin was attending an important seminar tonight that meant he wouldn't see Holt until tomorrow afternoon, when Jake was at home...  
"Alright," he sighed, patting Jake's knee in between changing lanes. "Get some rest."  
Jake didn't need to be told twice, and was out like a light.  
~

"Cheddar!" Jake gasped excitedly as he stepped inside Captain Holt's home, giggling as the lazy corgi inquisitively sniffed his ankles. 

"I am sure he is the only reason why you wanted to visit, is that right?" Holt asked wryly as he stepped through the door to his home with his belongings, glad to see that Cheddar had been well looked after. Kevin had insisted they leave Cheddar in the care of a neighbour while they were away - and here he was, safe and well. 

"No..." Jake flushed shyly as he kneeled on the floor with Eggy in his hands, watching with childlike awe as the dog sniffed the toy. Holt simply chuckled, leaving a majority of his belongings and case files right there in the living room - it was late and he would be more than happy to sort them tomorrow. "I will prepare the guest room for you. Put your pyjamas on, please - it's past your bedtime."

Blushing, Jake rose to his feet the second Holt left the room and grabbed his pyjamas from a nearby pile - abandoning Eggy on the floor. He shed his clothes with ease and zipped up his onesie, careful to make sure that his onesie was the right way around this time. He didn't want to have a potty accident in Captain Holt's house. Cocooned in gentle fleecy warmth Jake plopped down on the ground again and looked for Eggy. Where... was Eggy? Jake had made sure to put him down close by when he was putting his jammies on... "Eggy?" he whispered in confusion, as if the stuffed animal was able to answer him, stepping gingerly around the living room in search. "Eggy, where did you go?"  
"Rrrrr," said a voice in response - a voice that sounded a little bit like a dinosaur. Jake jolted at the noise, eyes widening and his heart beginning to pick up in his chest. "Eggy?" he repeated nervously, padding on his tippy-toes toward the source of the noise. He padded all the way toward the kitchen without quite realising it and the closer he got to the growling the more his heart pummelled as if it was going to beat right out of his chest. "Oh..." he sighed, coming to a stop at Cheddar's bed and feeling his heart slow down considerably.  
Cheddar had Eggy!  
...Eggy was in his mouth. "Cheddar, you can't eat Eggy!" he scolded lightly, kneeling on the kitchen floor and gingerly grasping the floppy part of Eggy's fluffy tail that was hanging from Cheddar's mouth. "Even though he's named after yummy food, he's not really yummy!" he whined, tiredness breaking out into his voice. If Cheddar had been anything other than a dog, he may have realised that Jake's voice was growing slow with sleepiness and have given up the toy in an instant. Unfortunately he was a dog, and he was a dog that knew not to give up treasure when he saw it. His jaw set around the toy and he growled overprotectively. Jake whined again and tugged, and in response Cheddar pulled. The tug of war went on for a short while with both Jake and dog using as much of their strength as possible to encourage the other to let go -- something had to give.  
Unfortunately that something was Eggy the dinosaur himself. With a sickening rip as the stitching on his belly broke free and a grunt of exertion Jake bowled lengthways across the kitchen and landed on his bottom with Eggy in his lap. A victory it would have been... if Eggy wasn't now covered in dog slobber with the matching scent l'Eau de Canine and sporting an impressive bald patch on his belly where he had been torn. Dazed, Jake blinked back tears as he stared at his ravaged stuffed animal and tried not to register the ache in his bottom. 

"...Jacob?" Holt poked his head into the kitchen. "What are you doing in here? The guest room is ready for you now," he crooned gently. "I trust you can use the toilet first, and maybe brush your teeth."

Jake was holding it together remarkably well until Holt used that voice on him, the soft and scratchy crooning one. Something ached in his throat and he keened around it, making a pathetic whimpering sound... before bursting into tears. Not even small tears - great big fat tears that rolled down his cheeks and made him heave and gulp as he tried to speak and wrench air into his lungs at the same time. 

"Oh, Jacob," sighed Holt sleepily. A small part of him quite wished Jake had chosen a better time to burst into tears; namely tomorrow morning when it was a more respectable time than 1:45am. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Cheddar ate Eggy and now he gotta tear!" Jake wailed, holding the slobbered-on stuffed animal directly in Holt's face. 

Of course. Holt wasn't sure if he should have expected anything less.  
"Oh no..." Holt studied the tear with a sigh to himself. Cheddar could be awfully overprotective when he wanted to be and the stuffed animal proved that - the tear stretching across its stuffing-bloated belly was impressively wide. "Well... I'm afraid Eggy cannot possibly stay in bed with you tonight, Jacob."  
Jake whimpered in response, but Holt supposed he hadn't expected any less. "If he shares your bed, more of his stuffing will fall out."

Jake whimpered again, grabbing one of Holt's large hands in his own. He sniffled too and tried to fight through the sludgy-'just-cried' sensation in his nose. "C'n... c'n you come sit on the bed until I go to sleep?" he asked. If he couldn't have his dinosaur, and he wasn't seeing Amy until tomorrow, Holt was the next best thing. Holt made him feel safe.

"Of course, Jacob." Holt soothed, stroking his hair.  
~

Jacob's bedtime routine went remarkably well all things considered. Holt had quite expected for Jake to be unsettled, especially considering he had lost his stuffed companion and was close to going home - but after some cajoling into brushing his teeth and using the toilet he had settled into bed without complaint. Oh, that didn't mean he closed his eyes and drifted off like some sort of cherubim sent from the Heavens, no. After about five questions (three of which related to the welfare of his beloved stuffie), one request for a snack, one worry that Amy wouldn't like him and another question as to what was in that binder that Amy had given them (and after looking inside, one insistent demand that he write something inside too) he finally drifted off. It was 2:45am at this point and Holt was exhausted. Tucking Jake into bed, he slipped off to his own bedroom with the child's injured stuffed animal in his arms. The dinosaur was left to rest on the bedside table as he climbed into bed. It looked forlorn now that its stuffing was dribbling out of it - forlorn and floppy with an unhappy smile as though it quite missed its owner as much as its owner missed it in return. Cheddar... Cheddar was a liability, and should've been glad that he was cute.  
Shaking his head, Holt rolled over in bed to dim the lights. His eyes drifted to his mobile phone and rested there. He hesitated. 

Kevin, I apologise for contacting you at such a late hour. I require your help.

**Rule ~~18~~ ~~19~~ **#20!** :  
** **Tear:**  
_Cheddar was playing with Eggy and Eggy got ~~teared~~ a tear. On his belly. He's gonna be fixed. But Eggy is not allowed to be with Cheddar anymore in case Cheddar wants to eat him. Captain Holt says that Cheddar is greedy and he eats a lot and I gotta be careful in case Cheddar thinks I can be ~~eated~~ eaten like Eggy was!_


	11. Rule 21: Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rule 21: Stitches  
>  _Wear and tear is an occupational hazard for any stuffed animal (or human!) if they are not looked after correctly. Fortunately, Kevin is able to step in and patch things up should they need it._

“ _This_... is what you wanted my help with, darling?” Kevin’s voice was gentle and yet puzzled as he stared down at the floppy stuffed animal laid out on the coffee table looking quite as if it had been prepared for major surgery. He put his arm around his husband and pressed slightly, cocooning Holt in a comforting manner. “There’s no issue, although... it seems so... trivial..? The tone of your message suggested it was something of the utmost importance.”

”Oh, it is.” Raymond murmured sombrely as he looked at the stuffed animal. He drew his gaze toward his husband and sighed when Kevin met his gaze, pressure lashing on his back. Suddenly, he really quite understood why Amy hadn’t spoken to him formally about Jake’s... predilection and had instead presented him with the binder — what exactly could he say? Words formed on his tongue but fizzled out and nothing he could think of seemed succinct enough. He sighed and gestured to the stuffed animal. Best to rip the proverbial band-aid off and get it out there. “This... belongs to Jake. This belongs to Jake and if it is not fixed soon he will have a complete breakdown.”

Kevin frowned. “Is Jake not... in his thirties?” Though Kevin knew of men older than Jake who had at least a fleeting interest in model toys, he wasn’t sure stuffed dinosaurs belonged in that category. 

Ray nodded with a sigh. “If we were to get technical about such things, yes. Jake is indeed in his thirties. He has an.. I suppose you could call it an, _alter-ego_ , Jacob, who functions at the level of a child. Jake has always been the childish type, but this... this outreaches that sort of behaviour.”

”How so?” Kevin asked. He had a pretty good estimation of what exactly Raymond was hinting toward, but they were both doing an incredibly good job of skirting around the issue. 

Raymond sighed and eyed the binder. He had shoved it into his bookcase upon realising he and Jake had been careless and forgotten to return it to Jake's apartment on his trip home. Kevin had been curious about it ever since but never probed, complacent enough with Ray’s quick fire excuse. 

Holt made his way to their bookcase very much aware of Kevin’s eyes on him throughout, and eased the thick binder free before letting it plonk with an unceremonious ‘thwunk’ into Kevin’s lap. “...You need to read this.”  
~

”Darling, I need one of your colleague’s shirts!”, was a sentence Holt didn’t quite expect Kevin to ever say. One of those shirts being Santiago’s was an even bigger shock.

”How do you suggest I put this forward to Santiago?” Holt asked quietly, although incredulity blew forth in his tone. Kevin shrugged lightly, a thin smile of amusement dancing on his lips as he pressed a kiss to Holt's cheek--was he _enjoying_ this?! "Oh darling, I'm sure you'll find a way."  
~

"Santiago, I need one of your shirts." Holt's tone was as neutral as ever as he welcomed her into his office. There was little point in beating around the bush, he supposed, and saw it easier to bite the bullet. Santiago flushed an unsure shade of pink at this particular request and he could see the cogs twisting slowly in her mind to flesh out what it was exactly she was asking of him. "Wh.. why?" she stammered at last, picking unsurely at the shirt she was wearing on instinct. "What kind? A shirt--a work shirt? Blouse? Pajama? Or, uh, silk? Cotton?"  
Holt shrugged, locking his hands together on the table. "Please, don't worry about it," he soothed lightly in an attempt to stop the cogs in Amy's mind from unravelling too much - it was just past 11am, after all, and he didn't want the wheels to slow down this early on. "I'm not sure it matters. Perhaps a shirt that you wouldn't miss too much. Kevin requires it for a repair operation for Jake's stuffed animal." 

"Ohhh.." Amy sighed, the cogs stilling with understanding. That must've been the stuffed animal Jake spent so much of his 'little' time talking about. Quite what Holt had done with Jake during his time in Coral Palms was a mystery that Amy had yet to truly unravel - but 'spoil him' was quickly climbing to the top of the list.  
Holt's voice had lowered considerably and so hers did in return; she supposed it was only natural, given she didn't exactly want Jake to stumble upon them and plunge himself into littlespace when he was doing a decent enough job of being at work at the moment. "Alright. I'll go home during my lunch hour."

(She went home, and returned with an old shirt that was just a little bit too tight for her; pink satin flowered pattern with a missing button and, if one pressed their nose close enough, the faintest whisper of perfume clung deep into the fibres. It felt odd to Holt, knowing he had Amy's blouse in his satchel - and knowing he was going to give it to his husband. His journey home later that evening was mildly uncomfortable although to look at him no one could've guessed.)  
~

"I need a shirt of yours too, you know." Kevin murmured thoughtfully. Their living room was lit only by candlelight. Wrinkles gently pressed the corners of his eyes as he frowned in concentration to press thread through the eye of a sewing needle and begin stitching a neat square of pink checks along the dinosaur's stomach. 

"Nonsense. Amy's shirt is more than enough fabric, is it not?" Holt stepped into the low orange glow of the living room with two mugs of hot tea in hand, placing one on the nearby side table for Kevin to take. He settled into the armchair opposite with a gentle hum as the fabric cocooned around him, bringing his own steaming mug to his lips. Cheddar padded across the rug and settled with a contented whine at Holt's feet, relaxing bonelessly as his head was petted. A contented silence drifted in on the room and rested around the small family.  
"Mm.. of course, sweetheart, but wouldn't he love it if he had your shirt with him too? You both have taken such good care of him. Thank you for the tea, by the way!"

Holt hesitated and sighed, placing his own mug down and disappearing upstairs. He returned just as Kevin finished up the square stitching on Amy's shirt and was battling to push in the stuffing that threatened to bulge from the soft toy's stomach.  
"How is it going?" Holt peered over at his husband upon reentry of the living room, draping a thin shirt over his face as he passed by. 

Kevin mumbled in mild annoyance, grabbing at the fabric. "Raymond Holt, now I've lost focus!" he grumbled lightly, grabbing at the material curling against his face. "It was 'going' perfectly fine prior!"

"I chose this. Perhaps I should pick something different?"

"Oh, no, darling." Kevin murmured, his hands stroking the fabric softly. "It's perfect. Why on Earth would you donate this? It's..."

Holt murmured nothing in particular, cutting his husband off. Kevin shrugged, and let out a triumphant little 'aha!' as he finally succeeded in pushing the stuffing back into the belly of the beast, knotting off the thread. "Well, darling..." he said, "Make yourself useful and cut up your shirt, please!"  
~

"Jake, would you mind coming into my office once you are ready to leave?" Holt asked. It was that time of day where everything was slowing down at the precinct, work dripping to a stop in favour of pulling on coats and tentatively wondering whether to go for a drink after lunch or to go home and prepare dinner.

...Jake too was one preparing to go home, slinging on his jacket. Relief pin pricked all along his spine as it got closer and closer to home time. Coming back from Coral Palms and some ridiculous indulgence of his Little side had been a bigger shock to the system than he had guessed. He had always counted down the minutes until he could slip into Littlespace-- way back before all of this when his Littlespace was concealed to just him-- but somehow now the urges were stronger, persistently pawing rather than needling. Especially since he had just had to throw himself back to work and relationships and all the other things that big Jake did - while trying not to fall asleep at his desk.  
(Still without his faithful companion, sleep was more difficult than usual. Even with Amy at his side. Of course Amy's cuddles were out-of-this-world but at the same time somehow they were hot and sticky and cold and not quite right.)  
When he became aware of Holt's voice his face fell before he was able to catch himself; the thought of prolonging what he so badly needed throwing an ache into his tummy. "..sure!" he squeaked out, trying to smother the whine that wanted so desperately to bleed through - his Littlespace peeping from the cracks as his grown up detective side tried to tell himself that Holt was Holt and he was Jake and this wasn't the time for any sort of Littlespace. Putting down his satchel, he headed toward the office. The feeling in his stomach grew heavier. Why did Holt need him? He... he hadn't been in trouble today, he had completed his case files and captured four perpetrators without fuss... what could it be? Holt only ever asked him into his office to yell at him if he wasn't offering a new case. He fidgeted with his hands, putting them into his pockets. "W- what is it...?"

"...hello, Jacob," Kevin smiled. He quite liked Peralta, all things considered. The boy's attempts to placate him were admirable at the least, and this new development surprised him very little now that he had taken the time to think it over. When Holt had asked him to duck into the office this afternoon he had all but jumped at the chance. 

"Kevin!" Jake's heart thudded so hard he wasn't sure if Kevin and Holt could hear it in the quiet of the office. The squeaking continued if not a smidgen higher than it was before. Kevin was here. Kevin was here and-- and he had used his name - the name that chipped at his Littlespace in an instant. He already felt his mind slipping out from beyond his control and murmured a little, puzzled. "I-- what are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too," Kevin chuckled. Holt cleared his throat. "Myself and Kevin took it upon ourselves to solve one of your cases," he explained. The pair shared a rueful sort of smile that whispered its way onto their faces and disappeared in a blink. Jake frowned, free hand clammy, rubbing his nervous-feeling tummy. The sensation that he was going to be told off didn't waver; even when Holt cleared his throat it sent a spike right down his spine as he recognised it as what Holt did before telling him off. "Wh-- what case? I... the one about the stolen jewellery down town? I'm sorry, I'm gathering evidence on that one, it's pretty much open and shut now and I--"

"No, Jake." Kevin smiled, pulling the suitably-recuperated Eggy from his satchel and pushing him across the desk toward Jake. "...This one."

Jake drew in a sharp breath, the kind that came out before you were about to cry, and his voice trembled. "You fixed him!" he squeaked, all hot and rushed and excited. He grabbed the toy from the desk and squeezed him so hard Kevin swore the stuffing may have burst all over again there and then, burying his nose into the fabric. "Oh!" he lifted the toy from his grip for a moment to scrutinise it, eyes widening as he noticed the new colourful patches. Eggy now had a square patch of pink flowered satin--Jake recognised this as one of Amy's blouses because he thought she looked really pretty in it and when the buttons had popped and gave him full view of her chest he had tried his hardest to convince her that 'wasn't it worth keeping?'--and next to it a square of something that Jake only faintly recognised. Navy, crinkled. He rubbed his thumb over the patch and frowned. "...what's this?"

"That shirt was mine." Holt looked at the navy patch fondly, taking a deep breath. "It was one of the shirts I wore when I first joined the NYPD. It is special to me, but now it can be special to you." he explained, quietly. 

Jake looked at his stuffed animal and thought it over quietly. Now he had things from both of the special people in his life. Huh. Cool. He had a wobbly sort of smile on his face and an even wobblier sort of feeling in his chest where his heart was. "Thank you!" he whispered happily, shifting on his toes. The shifting turned into a light, cheerful bounce. It was sort of as though he was holding back - Kevin, for some reason, it was Kevin - gaze glued to him - forcing that Littlespace back slightly; Holt was a comfort to him now, Holt was safe - but Kevin was too new.  
...Proving Jake's theory correct (or perhaps supporting evidence that the pair had spent too much time together) Holt recognised the bouncing for what it was immediately. "I think you should head home, detective." he nodded. "I'm sure you have plenty to do. Dismissed."

He, Jake (and Kevin) all knew exactly what that 'plenty to do' entailed; catching up on naps with that dinosaur firmly in his arms where it belonged. 

**Rule 21: Stitches**  
_Wear and tear is an occupational hazard for any stuffed animal (or human!) if they are not looked after correctly. Fortunately, Kevin is able to step in and patch things up should they need it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's good to be back to this :)


	12. Rule 22: Jinx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rule #22: Jinx:**   
>  _Don't jinx the psych evaluation. DON'T JINX THE PSYCH EVALUATION._

“…I’m sorry, Santiago, but you and I both know Jake isn’t ready to return to active duty.”

Jake’s return to work was a slow one. Even though he had insisted, days after his stint under witness protection, that he was longing to get back to the force and especially to active duty, Amy wasn’t so sure. She may have been more sure of the fact if, when he asked her, he wasn’t whining and bouncing on his tippy toes like a small child. Even if Amy played devil’s advocate and told herself that Jake was just as childish ‘big’ as he was ‘small’, the fact that he had lasted just under a day before needing his pacifier for comfort   
(…or that on Wednesday she had peeked in on him watching television and he had panicked, switching Scooby Doo for some weird medical show where this old lady was getting her butt-boils lanced, and tried his hardest to insist that he was engrossed) told her all that she needed to know. Holt had agreed with her, naturally, wanting the best for Peralta and the rest of the force – and, having seen Peralta’s work while he was balancing between spaces, knew exactly what pandering to Jake would entail. He had allowed Jake to come back to work here and there – to return his beloved stuffed animal, for instance – but otherwise, Jake was to work only three times a week; and even then it was to be desk duty, not duty in-the-field.

“Please, sir,” Amy pleaded. It was unlike her to defy Holt but she pressed her palms against the desk and shifted hopefully. “Jake’s adamant that he’s ready to return to the force.”

“Do you think he’s ready? You are his primary caregiver, after all.” Holt quizzed, quirking a brow – knowing that deep down Amy didn’t think so at all. “Peralta is one of the best detectives on the force, but I can’t have him dragging the rest of the Nine-Nine away from reaching their full potential just so he can be rocked to sleep.” He frowned, and it seemed to hurt him to say that as much as it hurt for Amy to hear it. 

Amy hesitated. “Could he do paperwork? I could really, you know, hype up desk duty to him for a little bit.” She proposed, hope flowering in every word. “He could work in one of the evidence lockups, file things up.” It was quiet there, she theorised; the system was rapidly digitised nowadays. Should he feel like he needed a nap or was slipping into his Littlespace, he would go unnoticed…

“He could do paperwork, yes.” Holt nodded. “Although if he wants to return to active duty he needs to prove he can manage the full working day as the grown up he is to both you and I.”

How was it that Holt seemed to read her mind time and time again? Amy winced but tucked it away and nodded. “Loud and clear, Captain.” She agreed – and resigned herself to telling him the truth… and riding out the impending tantrum.  
~

“…Holt says you can work desk duty, if you feel up to it.”  
It was later that night and Jake was as comforted as he could possibly be – cuddled up with her under a blanket watching television.   
Amy ran a hand through his curls; Jake whined but didn’t squirm away from her. “Desk duty is dumb. I want to really work a case, not read about how awesome everybody else did.” He frowned.

“Do you feel like you can?” she shrugged. His head whipped toward her immediately, nodding so hard he thought his head might fall off. 

“Completely? No pacifier, no colouring, no mid-day nap?” 

His gaze faltered but still he nodded. 

“…no crying if you fall over?”

He was frowning now. He nodded slower. 

“…No Eggy?”

Jake stopped. This time he didn’t nod at all. He had sort of hoped he could sneak his dinosaur into work. He’d be fine hidden under his coat or in a satchel… he whined. 

“If you stay on desk duty you could have your dinosaur.” Amy shrugged. Even though Holt had said no, she highly doubted anybody would pay much attention to Jake in the lock-up. “But if you want to work on cases with me and the others you have to show Captain Holt that you can manage without that sort of stuff.”

Jake sniffed, curling into himself a little bit. “Alright. I’ll start on Monday.” He relented. The pouty tone flowed into his voice in an instant but he was quiet. At least he was back at work with his friends, right…?  
~

“Pleeeeease can I work a case?” Jake whined, shifting at his desk. It was Monday morning and he was forty-five minutes into desk duty, hidden away in one of the unused evidence lock-up rooms that nobody used any more. He had surprised himself by lasting longer than he had thought – but he was _sooooo boooored_. Amy said she would check in on him every hour or so, and if she was unable to then Captain Holt would poke his head around the door. He only had Eggy for company, laid flat on the desk. Sometimes Boyle would peep in and tell him about this amazing gruesome case he was working on, and it made Jake feel antsy. He was already tired of sitting down at his desk and his legs wanted him to get up and move. He squirmed on his bum. 

Holt had just poked his head around the door. “You know the rules, Jake.” He scolded lightly. “You’ll return to active duty when I see fit. When, for instance, you don’t have your stuffed dinosaur for company.” 

Jake huffed, swiping his hand out grumpily and sweeping the dinosaur off of the desk. It spun around like it was figure skating and landed rather spectacularly into the trashcan with a fwumpf sort of noise. “Now I don’t.” He stuck his chin out defiantly. Holt swore he could see the beginnings of a lip quiver. “Please, Captain. Boyle sounds like he’s having fun!”

“This is your job, Peralta, not personal entertainment.” 

“Please!” Jake whined. 

Holt sighed. “If you prove yourself to me by the end of this week, I’ll push for your psych eval. If you pass the psych eval, I’ll consider. You’re dismissed.”

“This is my room, you can’t dismiss me!”

“I said _you’re dismissed_ , Peralta.”

That was his warning tone again. Jake shut up and dived to free Eggy from his trash can prison the second Holt’s back was turned. He pulled a Kit-Kat wrapper from in between Eggy’s soft spikes and murmured, squeezing the dinosaur tight against his chest. “I gotta pass the psych eval, Eggy.” He whispered, as Eggy’s head flopped sideways. “What ‘m I gonna do?”  
The thought that he was doing himself no favours by asking his stuffed animal for advice was an unwelcome one. He batted it away quickly, squeezed his dinosaur, and turned back to a casefile. 

...It was in the pocket of his coat.   
He had snuck it in.   
He had snuck it in without Amy’s knowledge, without even Holt’s knowledge and even just the knowledge it was there was enough to make him want it, invading the folds of his brain whenever he tried to engage work-mode. His casefile, the sixth of the day, was half finished. Biting and then sucking at his lip he murmured, dropping his pen onto the desk.   
Then he fidgeted, drumming his fingers onto the desk.   
Then he spun in his spinny-chair and drummed his fingers against his thighs. His gaze was slow, the drumming constant, but he stared at his thumb.  
A quick glance at the door.   
Closed.   
He wasn’t sure of the time—not when his mind went all frantic and swimmy like this—but he was sure Amy wasn’t coming in to check on him just yet.  
The blinds were closed, drawing the room into a peaceful dim. Slowly Jake hesitated and furtively slipped his thumb into his mouth. Compared to the rubber bulb of his pacifier which he had gotten so used to his thumb felt too big and hot and slippery against his tongue, leaving the funny metallic twang of skin and sweat. He drew his thumb out after some experimental suckles with a slow slurped pop— no, it just wasn’t hitting the spot. Fleetingly, the last dregs of his big side before it gave in and fell away entirely, giggled at him that maybe this was what everybody meant when they wittered on about ‘gateway drugs’. There was always something that didn’t quite hit the spot, the need for something more.   
(Granted they were talking about crack cocaine and not pacifiers, but it was the same principle.)  
Jake dived for his coat which was hung loosely on a nearby chair and rooted frantically in the leftmost pocket, heart squeezing delightedly when he felt the plastic handle of his pacifier. He drew it out and skittered back to his chair, pacifier in hand, sitting messily and plunging the pacifier into his mouth. The second the familiar rubber weight nestled on his tongue he let out a slow, lazy sort of breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. He sank back into his chair, boneless and blissful and weirdly relieved – the kind of relief that happened when you finally got to pee after being cooped up in the car for hours, or something. He clung to the desk happily, splayed hands reaching to give Eggy a cuddle, and working the pacifier happily— _thckt, thckt, thckt_ —he drew himself back into his casefile as best he could. 

“Jake! I was wondering if you wanted to come for lu—”

Amy flung the door of the evidence room open with an excited flourish, pausing as she took in the sight in front of her. The second Jake heard the door open he scrambled to pull his pacifier out of his mouth and vault it headlong across the room (where it fell between two shelves) before collapsing into an ungainly mess of arms and legs in his chair. “I’m working really hard!” he shrieked, rather unconvincingly. 

Amy frowned, creeping closer. “You had your pacifier in!” she accused. 

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh, yeah huh you did, Jakey.”

“Nuh uh, didn’t. You’re imagining things.”

Amy sighed. It was hard on him, she knew, and it was only Monday. “It’s lunch time, Jake. C’mon.”

Muttering, Jake tidied his things and trotted after her.  
~

“Are you gonna put me forward for the psych eval?” Jake asked hopefully.

He had worked for the rest of the week in the evidence archives without a word of complaint, keeping his dinosaur for company as he got his head down and worked on filing case after case (and perfected his paper aeroplanes… re-enacted Jurassic Park… given himself temporary tattoos in Biro pen all up his arms… collapsed countless times in his chair sucking his pacifier as if his life depended on it—but Holt didn’t need to know about that, did he? Besides, what _else_ was he meant to do? It was _boring_ sitting in that pitiful postage-stamp room all by himself away from the hustle and bustle of the bullpen, even if Holt or Amy or Boyle decided to check up on him every now and then so as far as Jake was concerned his behaviour was exemplary. The only time Holt had seen him for a decent amount of time was during his lunch hours, when he made a pained, over-elaborate effort to choose the most ‘grown up’ lunch that was physically possible (quinoa and walnut salad and a smashed avocado wheatgerm sandwich) and choked it down. Which proved he was a grown up because he really wanted a fruit roll-up and a teddy bear shaped brownie and those little cheese bites shaped like Paw Patrol characters - but he had made the grown up decision, right?!

Holt sighed, looking down at Jake. If Jake thought he had been subtle he was sorely mistaken. He had seen the over-elaborate behaviour. The throwing of his stuffed dinosaur, the ridiculously-unlike-Peralta sort of lunches. And yet he had seen how tight a hug Peralta gave his stuffed toy when he thought Holt wasn’t looking or the doodles he had scribbled on scrap paper. He quite thought that agreeing to Peralta’s psych evaluation was going to lead the squad into disaster – but, if he was willing to _try_ …   
“As a matter of fact, yes, I’ve already placed you forward. You have an appointment on Monday morning.”

“Yes!” Jake squealed, fist-pumping. “Thanks, Captain Holt! I won’t let you down, I promise!”

“I know you won’t, Peralta.” Holt said, although the tone of his voice said he wasn’t too sure.  
~

“Jake, get your thumb out of your mouth.” 

Jake whined, yanking his thumb out of his mouth. The psych evaluation was in fifteen minutes, two floors up, and nervousness lashed across Jake’s spine. The second his thumb came out he began gnawing at his bottom lip instead, leaving it a glorious glistening pink. “I can’t help it.” He whined, shifting, shooting an accusatory glare at Amy. She of all people knew he couldn’t help it! “I’m nervous, and I…” he whimpered, trailing off. Amy hadn’t let him have his pacifier this morning before work. He wasn’t even sure if she had it with her. She hadn’t let him have Eggy, either, or to watch cartoons. In fact, ever since he had mentioned that he wanted to return to active duty and was pencilled in for a psych evaluation she had refused him his Little things. It had been rough.

“I’m sorry!” Amy winced apologetically, stroking his hand even though he was clammy. “You know I can’t risk you slipping into… _that space_ , not before the psych evaluation. You want to get back to active duty, you have to hold back on that sorta stuff.”

Jake whined again. He had woken up in a rather whiny mood and the continuous denial of his Littlespace was shaving him right down to his bare bones. “Whatever. I’m gonna head up.”   
Standing, he squirmed. 

“Let me come with you.” Amy soothed, keeping a comforting pincer grip on his arm. 

He yanked away from her, grumbling. “I’ll be fine.”

“I—Jake!”

Jake had gone.  
~

“Jacob, it’s fantastic to meet you!” The psych smiled a comforting smile as she settled in her chair. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions to see if you’re fit to return to active duty, don’t worry.”

Jake smiled, shifting uncomfortably on the couch opposite the lady. Her using his name like that made something squirm all down his spine and something in the back of his brain went all fuzzy. “It’s Jake.” 

“Jake. Now, Captain Holt and Amy have told me a lot about you…” 

( _Traitors_ , Jake thought, feeling his face whiten.)

“It’s all confidential, don’t you worry. Now, Jake. How often would you say you spend doing or engaging in childlike activities?”

A shrug. “Every day after work. Couple hours. I- I still do adult things too!” he protested. “Still… still go on dates and—and pay bills and file taxes!”

She nodded, noting this down. “You do this sort of thing with Ms. Santiago? How do you think this affects your emotions? With her? How about Captain Holt?” 

Jake mumbled.   
She asked him plenty more weird questions which he answered as best he could, and then she rose.  
When she came back, she had Eggy in her arms and his pacifier looped around one finger. Huh. That was where they went!   
There were also some cars. Brightly coloured. Smiley-faced. Not his; he remembered seeing them in the toybox that they dragged out into the bullpen whenever there were kids there. He rose in happiness, gaze locked on and following her as she put the items down in a messy pile on the table. “Please don’t mind me. I’m going to grab another form for you to sign.”

She walked out. Jake was left alone with the pile. His gaze locked on to Eggy’s glassy eyes, beaming. He looked to the left. No one was there and he couldn’t see any security cameras. There was a window that spanned the entire wall, but nobody was peeping at him through it, and it looked like it backed onto some sort of storeroom anyway.   
He looked to the right. No one was there and he still couldn’t see any security cameras.   
Reaching forward, he grabbed Eggy and squeezed him in a deathgrip, mumbling in content as he rubbed his cheek against the fuzz of the dinosaur’s face. He had also grabbed his pacifier and stuffed it into his mouth and was suckling furiously at the thick bulb as if it was a cigarette and he was taking in his first stressed-out drag of the day. The cars went unwanted, scattered across the table and falling onto the floor with their wheels still turning, but when the psych showed no sign of returning and it felt like forever he gingerly picked one up and started wheeling it around the table. All the while he suckled at his pacifier and mumbled to Eggy, relishing in the Littlespace he had locked away for so long. 

“Interesting,” nodded the psych, watching him from the one-way window and noting this down on her clipboard.   
~

“I can confirm, Jake, I am happy for you to return to active duty.” The psych smiled. 

The second the door cranked open Jake spat the pacifier out and threw Eggy back onto the pile, sitting ramrod straight in his chair in a ‘I definitely wasn’t playing with those just now’ sort of way.   
“That’s… that’s great!” he squealed. Happiness swirled in his belly; happiness and guilt because he had just been playing with his toys, and he supposed someone who had returned to active duty wasn’t meant to play with toys. “Um, um. I think these are mine.” Understatement of the century considering the pacifier had been stuffed into his mouth a few seconds ago. “Can I… can I take them with me?”

“Of course!” the psych laughed, nodding. “Amy brought them in, they are most definitely yours.” She passed him a slip of paper which had her conclusion on it. “Off you go, Jake. Go enjoy being a cop.”

Jake laughed nervously, slinging his pacifier into the pocket of his hoodie and Eggy into his satchel.  
~

“Well?” Amy asked, guilt and nervousness puncturing her voice as Jake returned to the Bullpen. They had collected in Holt’s office. Holt was sat at his desk, leaned in with interest. 

“…I can officially return to active duty,” Jake smiled, pulling out the sheet of paper. He surprised himself by not being as excited as he thought he would be. 

Amy squealed for him, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing, letting out her own relieved sigh. “Jake, that’s great!”

“Yes, Jake, I am very happy for you.” Holt agreed, a flicker of a smile on his lips. 

“Yeah.” Jake nodded, smiling weakly in return. Why wasn’t he hyped? Now he could look into the pizza place murder a couple blocks away with Charles. He said that the victim’s blood had ended up on a pizza. Gross. “…Oh,” he shouldered his satchel, leaving it in Holt’s office. “I found Eggy too. Can I leave him— _it_ , can I leave it in here?”

Holt nodded. “Take today as your final breather. Start fresh tomorrow.” He decided.

Jake nodded. As he left the office he realised that he really wasn’t very excited at all. In fact, he was quite scared. 

Amy did not follow. She hung back, watching as Jake left through the slatted blinds in Holt’s office. “…Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“If he was signed off as fit to return to active duty…” Holt shrugged. “I can’t see why not. We will have to keep an eye out all the same. I can ensure he is paired with you or I as often as possible.”

Amy nodded. “Sounds great to me, Captain.”

**Rule #22: Jinx:**   
_Don't jinx the psych evaluation. DON'T JINX THE PSYCH EVALUATION._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that if Terry could get back to active duty even when he was obviously very nervy, Jake could bullshit his way back into the force too, baby things and all, lmao oops consider Jake Peralta jinxed af. boy done a big oopsie.


	13. my big, black, gay, platonic, bother figure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No!" Jake blurted. He was making it worse! "No-- if anything I see you as a _bother_ figure. Because you're always _bothering me_." 
> 
> Back to work for real and under pressure to hide his Littlespace, Jake establishes that Holt is his bother figure. They play catch.

Back at the precinct full time, now, Jake had been weaned off of Eggy. Not through choice, mind you, but through Amy - who had pulled a couple of his heartstrings and said that Rosa would tease him if she saw Eggy, or the Vulture might use him as a bargaining chip. It was an entire lie -- well, the part about Rosa was, anyway, and while Amy hated that she had to lie to Jake, he was in such a vulnerable mindset he lapped it up no problem. And so, after an entire week - not two weeks, not a month, but a week - of slow re-introductions at the precinct; slow re-introductions that meant Jake was allowed to keep Eggy flat on his desk at first which gave him a massive heap of comfort (nobody ever dared to look close enough at the cesspit that was Jake's desk, anyway)... Amy decided it was time to do things a bit differently. Captain Holt would be keeping an eye out for him, she had said, and of course she would too, and of course they weren't going to let him go cold turkey like that, but Eggy would be much safer if he stayed in Captain Holt's office rather than staying out in the bullpen with Jake. Captain Holt would keep his pacifier too, and at lunchtime when everybody was too busy thinking of their hungry bellies Amy would go and retrieve them and Jake could have some time in Littlespace somehow, somewhere.  
Which was... fine. When Jake was at work he was a grown man, he was an adult, he was the adultiest adult that ever adulted. He was, he really was just fine, he didn't need Eggy or his pacifier at all and he definitely wasn't counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds until 12 sharp lunchtime, oh no. 

...Except he kinda totally was. Ever since there had been a time limit on it, his Littlespace ate at the corners of his mind and massaged his skull delightedly, pushing him into every urge that ever crossed his mind so that it blew up and ate him whole. It wasn't even 10:30 yet.  
Drumming his fingers on the desk frustratedly he resisted the urge to bring them to his mouth and suckle and chew like he so desperately wanted to do, grunting and choosing to gnaw at his lip instead. A bit too late, perhaps, he remembered that he was at work and he could sort of distract himself until then... rising from his desk he went off to find himself a case to get his teeth into... until 12:00 when he could get his teeth stuck into his pacifier like he wanted. Well, sort of. If he got his teeth stuck into his pacifier it would probably pop.  
~

"So your alibi," Jake said, voice dripping, "is that _a stranger_ handed you the gun, made you put _your_ prints on it, robbed the store and then hid the gun in _your_ underpants?"  
His temples throbbed. It was 11am and his patience for his suspect's bullshit alibi was already stretched thin, especially when the suspect gave him a crooked, shit-eating grin, and nodded. "Yep" he added, popping the 'p'. Jake bit back an unamused grunt. The edges of his mind felt foggy, as if his Littlespace was creeping closer and closer to swallowing him whole... except his big side was battling to keep himself steady and in a Detective sort of mindset. Worse, it was still an entire hour until lunch, and the sensations, Jake knew, were only going to get worse until he regained control over one of his headspaces. 

Captain Holt was passing by and somehow, Jake was hyperaware of his movements. He squirmed in his chair. "Captain!" he blurted, if only for an excuse to talk to the man, beyond ready to duck into Littlespace now and hyper aware that Holt was in control of that - as if he could just abandon his suspect for a quick five minutes with his pacifier, or something. "Ca-- Captain, did you get my report on the Findlay murder?"

"Yeah - I looked it over. Nice work."

Jake beamed. His heart always - secretly - felt a little bit warm when Holt praised him. Not that he'd ever admit it, because that was the sort of thing he'd tease Amy for. "Good." he murmured to himself, smiling. It felt different this time somehow, like he was all floaty and his mouth moved without him really engaging his brain, as he swam around in midspace trying to establish one or the other. "Thanks, Dad."

The silence in the bullpen was immediate and frosty at this and Jake shifted self consciously, pressure sitting on his shoulders. "W- what? Why is everybody staring at me?" 

"You just called Captain Holt, 'Dad'." Rosa pointed out, laughter feathering her voice. 

A lightning strike of freezing-cold realisation shot into Jake's stomach and turned it into this odd concoction of butterflies and ice, thrown with a violent judder into his big headspace. Everybody. Everybody heard. Everybody's gaze was on him, waiting for him to pull himself out of the mess he had just created. "What? No-- no I didn't. I said 'thanks, _man_!'" he protested. He praised himself for keeping his voice on an even keel, loading as much of 'big Jake' into it as he possibly could, and not even whimpering-- although the tightness in his voice was evident. Jake wondered if Amy could hear it. Jake wondered if Amy thought he was going to break down or if it was just through the effort of lying. Or Captain Holt-- Captain Holt knew him just as well. He set his best pleading gaze onto the elder man, _please help me, please get me out of this mess_. 

"Do you see me as a father figure, Peralta?" Holt raised a brow. His voice was low and fond but leaving an opening for Jake to wriggle his way out, say that he was pranking him, or something. 

_Yes. Obviously I do. You don't remember Coral Palms?!_ "No!" Jake blurted. He was making it worse! "No-- if anything I see you as a _bother_ figure. Because you're always _bothering me_."  
The icy sensation in his stomach was accompanied, this time, by heat - heat that travelled up to his face; hot flushes of embarrassment creasing up the back of his neck and into his cheeks. 

"You show your father some respect!" Terry jumped up, snapping right in his ears. 

Jake supposed he was joking but the tone of his voice was terrifying and he jolted in his chair, sort of feeling like he was going to slip again. "I didn't call him _Dad_!" Jake snapped in return. His voice was even more of a higher pitch than it was before and the backs of his eyes had started to burn. He was entering the danger zone. 

Holt recognised the sound of tears clinging to the boy's voice. "No, no, no Jacob." he lowered his voice, all soothing and sweet - a reminder for him to begin calming down. 

"The Dad thing happened," unhelpfully beamed the suspect. "I mean, I was lying about the hold-up, but the Dad thing happened."

"All part of my devious plan!" Jake burst, heart thudding, leaping in his chair to point at his suspect. "His alibi was a lie!"

"Thank you, detective Peralta. Santiago, if you could begin the arrest process... Peralta, my office now, please. If you'd like we can talk it over a game of catch." he joked, both hands squeezing Jake's shoulders as he steered him into his office. Jake sank, relief prickling his stomach. It was time. "I know you're joking but I'd kinda like that." he whispered, and backed into the secrecy of the office he slipped his thumb into his mouth.  
~

"Oh, Jake." They were in the sanctity of Holt's office now; blinds closed, dimly lit. Holt had left to go and get himself some lunch and had promised to bring a small treat back for Jake too. Jake himself was pooled on the nearby couch, a thin blue comforter draped over him. Not his; Holt had passed it over, at pains to comfort him. Jake had never seen it in his office before. Holt had told him he hadn't looked hard enough. Amy suspected he had bought it in anticipation of situations like this.  
Amy was kneeled on the floor in front of Jake. He didn't know why but he preferred for her to sit at his level and talk to him.  
His thumb was out--'germs, Jacob!'--and his pacifier replaced it. Every now and then he would suckle and cling tighter to Eggy, unusually quiet. Amy speaking to him seemed to dislodge the snotty ball of emotions brewing in his chest, even if all she did was sympathise with him and touch his shoulder. He leaned into it, snivelling, emotions all wild and feverish. "Holt made everything worse!" The tears didn't quite make their way down his face but again they burned behind his eyes. "Now-- now everybody is gonna know!"

"I'm sure he didn't mean it, Jake." Amy soothed. Her face crinkled in concern. The fact of the other detectives finding out what exactly was going on with Jake was something she couldn't deny - they were detectives after all. But maybe... "He played it off like you were kidding, right?" she hesitated. "Maybe nobody will know. Especially if we can do your Little stuff in private."

Jake snivelled, pressing his face against Eggy and deciding not to meet Amy's gaze. He sort of felt she was right and yet sort of felt she was wrong and his tummy squirmed. "Captain said he wanted to play catch." he whispered eventually, a little smile coming to his face. 

Amy wasn't sure if Captain was telling the truth or not but the smile on Jake's face was so full of hope that Amy knew she couldn't let him down. "That sounds like a lot of fun, sweetie." she smiled, and assumed that as long as she kept him busy he would forget all about it.  
~

It was a Saturday.

It was a Saturday morning. 11:30am, to be exact. Amy and Jake had not long woken up after a lazy lie in together and an even lazier late breakfast. Jake was in the living room - laid on his tummy in front of the television watching Toy Story with one eye and colouring with the other. In the kitchen there was the distant sound of running water as Amy cleared the breakfast plates.

There was a knock at the door. 

"Amy," called Jake, his voice all high and lilting like it was when he was particularly deep in Littlespace, "There's somebody at the door!"

Funny. They weren't expecting anyone aside from a few more Amazon deliveries and Amy wasn't even sure she'd put them through for one-day delivery. Perhaps she had? Jake was clamouring for so many different things it was a blur, anyway. "I can hear that, hon." she smiled, easing open their front door. "Thank y--Captain?!"  
Oh God. Oh God. It was Captain Holt. Captain Holt was here and she was in her pyjamas! Not even particularly nice pyjamas - her rattiest, 'lazy lay in with Jake' sort of pyjamas, the ones with the loose elastic in the back and the frayed neckline and that faded cough-medicine stain on the hip that wouldn't wash out no matter how many times she scrubbed at it. "U- uh.." she opened her mouth. She closed it again. She tried to make herself say something-- to invite him inside-- anything!-- but nerves silenced her. "What are you doing here?" she spluttered eventually, voice tight and squeaky. She regretted how rude it sounded about 0.5 seconds after she had said it-- but it was true-- she had no idea why Holt was even here. 

"I'm here for Jake." Holt smiled. 

Jake...? Even the lure of Toy Story wasn't enough to capture Jake's attention in that moment. Ears pricking up, Jake dropped his colouring pencils onto the floor, eased up and toddled toward the door with a curious little frown plastered on his features -- a curious little frown which fell away when he peeped from behind Amy's back. "Captain Holt!" he gasped, tummy doing excited somersaults and butterflies all of a sudden. Which was weird, because when had he turned into Amy?  
Then Jake, as far gone as he was, realised Captain Holt coming to the house wasn't always a good thing. Maybe he had thought a bit more about the bother figure incident, even though it was long gone. Maybe he was coming to yell at him. Maybe there was an urgent case and he had to be called into work? The look became hesitant and quite a bit alarmed. Too alarmed to realise that Holt was looking down at him and laughing in light amusement. "Hello, Jacob." Holt cooed fondly. "Don't look so scared!"

"I- I don't wanna go to work," Jake flushed shyly and, in a sudden burst of self consciousness, put his pacifier to his lips. 

"Work...? Who mentioned work?" Ray asked kindly, indicating the clothes he was wearing and for the first time Jake took a really good look at the Captain and realised that he wasn't in work attire at all; rather, an orange polo shirt and khaki three-quarter shorts. Which worked out, really, because Jake was wearing denim shortalls and a blue t-shirt patterned with tiny red stars. His pacifier was firmly in his mouth, attached to a clip, attached to his shortalls. "Besides, you can't wear such nice outfit like that while you're at work!" Holt indicated Jake's outfit and Jake, still flushing in embarrassment, hugged himself. He had chosen this outfit himself, Amy had helped him shop for it. "No," Holt continued, "I'm taking you to the park. We're going to play catch. I promised, didn't I?"

Jake squealed in disbelief. He rushed to get his feet into his sneakers, in his rush getting his left shoe on his right and his right shoe on his left, the velcro stuck awkwardly. He rushed out toward Holt's car--too fast for neither Holt nor Amy to settle him and fix his shoes--gasping and bouncing when Cheddar popped up in the front seat, panting eagerly. "Cheddar!" he squealed. "We're gonna play catch!"

"I'll fix his shoes when I get him settled in the car," Holt whispered reassuringly to Amy. "I thought you would appreciate the break, and I thought the little man would have faired well with some reassurance after that incident at work."

Amy smiled to herself, nodding in relief. _Little man_ , she noted in amusement. Holt was more attached to Jake than she had thought. "Thanks, sir."  
~

The sun beat down against Jake's back and his feet thudded against the grass of the playing field. Holt had brought him to a big stretch of greenery about a hour away from home, surrounded by big sloping trees and home to a duck pond and several ducks. Quiet enough so that any of the precinct's regulars wouldn't see Jake and he could relax and be as small as he wanted; but lit up by the sound of hungrily quacking ducks, excitedly barking dogs, and the tinkle of a nearby ice cream van. Giggling to himself, he watched as Cheddar came to a lazy stop beside him. Captain Holt was wandering at a leisurely pace behind. "Got you, Cheddar!" Jake grinned. 

"What fantastic running, Jacob," Holt smiled as they slowed. "Do you think this is a good place to play catch?"

Jake nodded, bounding into position and outstretching his hands, a frown of comical concentration sliding onto his face. Ray tossed a small softball toward him; it sailed through the air almost in slow motion. Jake leaped into the air, eyes constantly on the ball to catch it before it fell and, beaming at his small victory, vaulted the ball back.  
This went on for a while--back, forth, back, forth, back--with Jake crumbling into giggles as Cheddar raced between the pair in pursuit of the ball, tongue hanging just slightly out. Every now and then Ray made soft noises of encouragement to Jake, telling him how good he was at catching (or how good he was at throwing, naturally, depending on whatever the boy was doing at the time) and it was refreshing to see Jake loosened up, laughing and squealing freely like the Little that Ray hadn't quite seen in a while. Eventually Jake's quick-fire moves and beaming enthusiasm faded; he stumbled backwards, still giddy with enthusiasm all the same, and plopped down onto the grass. Cheddar plopped down into his lap like the lazy little loaf he was and Jake, beaming, patted his fur with clumsy-but-careful coordination. "Captain?" Jake asked, as he patted Cheddar. His voice was all quiet and hesitant.

"Yes, Jacob?" Seeing as both the little man and Cheddar had decided to settle down, Holt settled with them. He squinted against the sunlight toward Jake. 

"Do you think the rest of the squad are going to find out I'm little?" Jake was still taking great interest in petting Cheddar, not wanting to meet Holt's gaze. 

Holt thought about it. "They are detectives, Jacob, it is practically in their job description." he winced. "I'm not sure the incident last week would have raised suspicions, but that isn't to say they won't work it out eventually. But I promise you that - if you do feel... small, myself and Amy will work to make you as comfortable as possible and see that the others don't work it out after all." he soothed.

That sounded like a good enough explanation to Jake. He leaned against Holt in happy relief, and the tinkling sound of the ice-cream van grew louder and more enticing. "Okay. Can I get ice-cream?"

Typical. Holt sighed. "I'm not made of money, son." he teased, pressing a handful of dollars into Jake's hand. "Off you go."

"Thanks, Cap'n!" Jake squealed with laughter and ran off, as Holt watched fondly, smiling to himself. One way or the other, they'd make it work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not my favourite but this scene is GOLDEN for littlespace stuff right?!


	14. Rule 23: Pinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rule 23: Pinch**   
>  _Jake doesn't like pill medication. If he has to take it, pinch his nose and throw it in when he opens his mouth for air._

Moaning softly, Jake squirmed around in his duvet.  
Something was different.  
The duvet felt heavier than usual against his bare legs.  
Mm. Maybe Amy had swapped it for a heavier duvet last night while they were sleeping? He shifted, wincing as sunlight pressed against his eyes and relishing those last few minutes before he had to get up for work. Suckling peacefully at his pacifier, he snuggled deeper into the heavy blankets.  
It... was cold. His legs brushed against something cold and wet feeling. Whimpering, Jake groggily sat up and patted the blankets for the cold patch. When he was awake enough to open his eyes, the patch was obvious - a wide, dark-blue stain spreading across his side of the bed. The bowling ball of realisation that he was wet and he had soaked his pyjamas through cascaded in slightly too late, and he whimpered thickly.  
W... why? He— he wore his diapers like a good boy now. Amy had helped him change into one last night before bed and powdered him up too, he remembered, he did!  
He squeezed his crotch experimentally. Sure enough his diaper was bulging beneath his sleeper, flushed yellow, and as he squeezed it a little trickle of pee came out, cold. His diaper only crinkled, a tiny noise of sympathy.  
Pacifier dropping out of his mouth he whimpered again, his eyes dampening with tears. “Amy? Amy, wake up,” he sniffled.

Amy opened her eyes slowly. Jake was already awake, sat on his knees, diaper obviously bulging under the puppy-patterned sleeper he had chosen to wear, pacifier not in his mouth but hanging limply on its clip. He was fidgeting with the blankets and God did he look adorable. She smiled lazily at him, sitting herself up so she could bring a kiss down on the plastic shield of his pacifier... but was unable to stop the smile from dropping from her face when she too felt the cold wetness.  
Jake reeled away from her the second her expression changed, fidgeting with the soiled blankets and bunching them up in each hand. “I did a pee,” he mumbled, face flushing in shame. “I think my diaper leaked.”

“Oh, darling...” Amy cooed in sympathy, patting his burnt-with-shame cheek. “That’s alright. Let’s go and get these sheets changed and get cleaned up for work.”  
~

“You okay?”

Amy was in the bathroom with Jake. The sheets had been put into the washing and Amy was helping Jake clean himself up, as well as working through the ‘before-work-morning-routine’ for both of them. Jake was half dressed— trousers on, belt looped through, shirt on, collar up, tie trailing around his neck. In the cold light of day his face looked greyer than usual, all flushed red in the cheeks as if the embarrassment hadn’t subsided yet, a little sheen of sweat at the top of his forehead which she’d never noticed before.  
Most blatant though was the fact he was squirming, constantly.

He nodded earnestly, but his hands were in fists at his crotch. “The faucet is running,” he mumbled, “I- I kinda need to pee again!”  
Amy chuckled and turned the faucet off, indicating the toilet. “Go on, then.”

(Hm. Wasn’t like him to pee again so soon.)

Jake shifted toward the toilet, slow, zombielike, and his clumsy fingers fumbled to ease himself out of his boxers, thighs tense. He found himself almost wishing he was wearing a diaper now, the need was so sudden and explosive. When he managed to ease out of his boxers the stream gushed hot and furious as if he hadn’t already gone this morning—which wasn’t like Jake at all. At the same time, his legs ached. Really ached, like it was hard for his legs to support his suddenly heavy body. He sort of missed the bowl a little, but found he was too tired to care, too busy trying both to hide his Littlespace and the wince on his face as he peed. It hurt. It hurt and he felt shitty (...in spite of the fact that neither Amy nor Holt liked him using naughty words.)

“Are... are you sure you’re alright?” Amy asked softly. Her voice was drowned out by the pounding in his head and he wasn’t even sure if he responded or did anything to reassure her of his totally-fine-ness.

(He didn’t, just mouthed and gave a lopsided thumbs-up.)

She put an arm out to steady him; he hadn’t realised he’d been about to stumble or even that she reached out if it wasn’t for the hot ache along his arm as she grabbed him.

“I think,” Amy fumbled with his open flapping shirt to ease it off of his shoulders, “It’s back to bed with you.”  
~ 

“But what about work?” Jake wailed, rolling miserably around the couch.

Amy had wrestled him back into his sleeper (she had only won when he got too sluggish to fight her) and cocooned him in his comforter.  
(He had refused bed.)  
She had called Holt and told him that Jake wouldn’t be able to work today, and with a promise that she’d work nights next week, managed to bag herself the rest of the day to look after him. “Don’t worry about work, sweetie,” she tucked a corner of his comforter beneath his sweaty back, “Holt understands. That’s big Jake stuff, anyway. I’ve booked you a doctor’s appointment for 11:30. You wanna watch Scooby Doo or Tom and Jerry until then?”

Jake’s face reddened, if it was even possible, beneath the feverish blush of his cheeks. She was right. Work was big Jake stuff. He was glad, too, because he had wanted so badly to plunge into littlespace while he felt this yucky—even more so when Amy mentioned visiting the doctor; big Jake was as frightened of the doctor just as much as little Jake, he’d rarely been—and didn’t know whether he should have been brave and big, or not. Amy had made that decision for him.

“Scooby,” he slipped his pacifier into his mouth, furtive. “Please!”  
~

“Well!” said the physician.

Sometimes Amy quite wondered what it would be like to be a physician. She had wanted, fleetingly, to be a nurse as a kid. But if being a nurse involved staring with the utmost interest in a vial of someone’s urine, then she was pretty glad she became a cop.

The physician had added something to the vial of pee, and it had turned a fierce pink colour.

“It looks to me as though you have picked up a particularly fierce UTI, Jacob.” he said, near enough reading Amy’s thoughts. “We actually hear it pretty often from people in the force. All that running around, no time to take a break or drink enough. I have prescribed medication, but don’t forget to get plenty of bed rest and fluids!”

“Thank you,” Jake whispered, gnawing at his thumb as he pressed himself against Amy, obediently nodding. He had not been very talkative.  
~

He was still not very talkative when they got home, and by then Amy suspected she knew why. "You need to take your medication now, Jake," she took the bottle from the paper bag it was encased in and popped the lid off to reveal some oval shaped pills. She took one into the palm of her hand. One side of the capsule was bright pink, the other bright yellow. It looked, admittedly, massive - and as Amy held it in her hands she pulled back the wince and wondered why she hadn't requested he have liquid medication. 

"Mmm-mmm." Jake shook his head as he eyed the pill, pressing his thin lips tighter together and ducking under his duvet. He had never really needed to go to the doctor or have any medication - and when he had, it had been liquid or IV. IVs had never been fun, but at least they didn't clog his throat up like that stone of a pill would. 

Amy sat next to him and pressed the pill forward. "You can have juice and you won't taste it, it'll be all gone in seconds." she reasoned, pleading lightly. "Otherwise you're going to stay sick."

"Don't care," whined Jake, even though it was blatantly obvious he did care. 

"...You won't get to go back to work."

He was ducked under his blanket now. "Don't care," he said, a little more muffled. 

The battle went on for the rest of the afternoon - Amy increasingly more pleading, Jake furious and upset. To make matters worse, he had to go through the whole rigmarole three times a day for an entire week. Amy had pleaded, begged, bribed - first with fizzy laces and then with Play Doh (a sign of increasing desperation for sure - she hated seeing him smoosh up all the colours and get speckles on the carpet) - but still he had refused. When she had given him juice, he had gagged and spat it out over his blanket. She replaced the juice for chocolate milk and he had wrinkled up his nose and chose to spit it over her, instead. Both times the pill had flown out machine-gun style. They had bribed, they had pleaded, they had thrown threats to divorce and run away at one another, and nothing had gotten any decent results.  
What was she going to do? There was no way that they were going to escape through the other end of this week unscathed and medicated with the way Jake was going on. 

"Ter? It's, it's Amy." Amy whispered furtively. She had given in and Jake was lying on the couch, unmedicated, watching Zootopia. 

"Amy? What's the matter?" Terry frowned. He was at work. It was his lunch break. 

"Your... your girls, when you need to give them medicine, and they won't take it, what do you do?" she asked, voice fraying with urgency. "I have my niece here," she swallowed thickly, hoping he didn't find it suspect, "and she won't take her meds, and-- and I don't know what to do."

Terry hummed. "I put it into some yogurt or ice cream and they have it just fine." he nodded. 

Amy nodded, wincing, wondering if Jake would notice if she did that with his pills. "Thanks," she murmured weakly and switched off. 

Boyle was next. He was a parent, he would know. "Boyle, if-- if Nikolaj doesn't take his meds what do you do?"

Charles thought about it. "Bribe him? In Latvia they have something called head cheese and--"  
Wincing, Amy switched off. She did not want to know what head cheese was, for one, and for two she had bribed Jake already and it hadn't worked any. 

Holt was a similar story. Not that he had a child but he had Cheddar, and Cheddar would only take his medication if it was pressed into cheese or if a bit of chicken or ham came quickly afterwards - exactly what Amy had been trying to do all along and so another dead end. 

"Pinch his nose," Rosa shrugged, in a last minute very desperate Skype call.  
It seemed unnecessarily mean. Amy stuttered unsurely. "Pinch his nose," Rosa reaffirmed, nodding. "He'll gasp for breath, throw the pill in and pass him some juice."  
...Well, Amy had tried everything else, so...  
"Thanks, Rosa," she bit her lip unsurely, lowering the lid of the laptop. She came to a slow stop at the doorway; watching Jake watch television for what felt like endless minutes, trying to muster up the courage to, well, actually do it. It seemed easy enough--well, Rosa made it seem easy--straddle him, pinch his nose, wait until he gasps in a big breath of air, pill in, swallow. Straddle, pinch, wait, swallow. Straddle, pinch, wait, swallow... Straddle, pinch, wait, swallow... squeezing the pill bottle in one nervously clammy hand, Amy worked one of the capsules into her palm (thanking everything that Jake was too engrossed in Zootopia to worry about what she was doing) and worked her way over to the foot of the couch.  
For a little while Jake was quiet; blinking tiredly and giving his pacifier soft popping suckles. Eventually, though, he sensed that Amy was close by, and looked at her in confusion. Spitting out his pacifier onto the blanket, he opened his mouth to shape the word, 'What?'-- and then Amy pounced, leaping forward. Jake squealed, eyes wide in realisation, but his furiously wriggling bum was no help in escaping, and finally Amy straddled him. She clamped a finger and thumb over his nose and vaulted the pill into his wailing mouth right to the back of his throat... grinning victoriously. "Swallow it quickly and I'll get you some chocolate milk," she soothed firmly even as he thrashed and wailed and tried his hardest to wriggle out from underneath her. "Let me go!"

"Swallow it!"

"No!"

"Swallow it!"

"No! Get off me!" He clawed feebly at her, like a kitten learning how to attack, and his heart sank to realise how little it bothered her. 

"Just swallow it, Jakey," she sighed. 

Jake swallowed, chest rising and falling furiously. He muttered nothing in particular to himself.

Amy rose to her feet, smiling in triumphant relief. "Is it gone?"

Jake ignored her, picking at the threads of his comforter and looking everywhere but her face. He rooted for his pacifier and moved to stuff it grumpily into his mouth.  
"Ah ah ah," Amy said again, firm still, "Is it gone?" and, man, Jake hated how he paused in an instant. Huffing, he opened his mouth and poked out his tongue for Amy to scrutinise. She peered, and nodded. True to her word she got him a small carton of chocolate milk as reward, and he suckled it in grumpy silence. 

Oh well. 

They only had to do this twenty more times.  
~

Amy turned over what the physician had told them in her head, again, for what felt like the sixth time that afternoon-- and here she was tying herself in knots once more. But the situation confused her.  
Peralta had never been the best at taking care of himself in all the years that she had known him--that was, partly, what had gotten the two of them into this sort of situation in the first place, wasn't it?--but, they were working at it, slowly. He ate before work now - and healthily! - banana oatmeal, yoghurt and strawberries - he ate healthily at work both big and little, and (something he seemed to struggle with most of all) he was using the bathroom more often at work too whereas beforehand he was too busy to stop what he was doing. The only thing that they hadn't quite tackled yet was water. Jake did not like drinking water and kicked up a tantrum whenever Amy suggested he try some - a tantrum that even his little side would have been proud of. His body seemed to be surviving pretty well on coffee, especially while he was at work, but the caffeine wrecked havoc on his Little side. All too often Amy would come home from work with Jake and Jake, finally able to shed the mask he kept on at work, would be bouncing off of the walls and tantrumming fiercely if Amy dared try to calm him down or do something he felt was not quite right. Worse, he was so pent up and small he found it difficult to really explain what was the matter. She had snapped, once, as much as Amy Santiago could possibly snap, and told him that she was not putting up with his caffeine crashes for a day longer, and that evening they had trekked to the nearest Target so Jake could look at the water bottles. Maybe, Amy thought, if Jake had a water bottle he really really liked, he would want to drink from it.  
...which had, surprisingly, worked. He had found a plastic tumbler, plain blue, and although he didn't want to get a character flask in case everybody else in the precinct started to tease him he had chosen some stickers (dinosaurs, of course) and patterned the lid and bottom, inconspicuously enough so nobody would know any different. Amy had also given in and gotten a star chart. For every day he drank all of his water he'd get a sticker, and at the end of the month if he had more stickers than not, he would get a present. He had asked for a pirate ship. It would cost at least six months worth of Amy's wages but, she supposed, it was worth it. 'Besides,' Jake enthused, 'it turns into a shark!', as if that was reason enough for her to consider paying.  
From then on it was as if a switch had been flicked, and excitement obviously bubbled up in him. Amy would fill his tumbler before work and by lunch it would be empty. It was a slow process, but she had thought Jake was positive about the whole thing, she had seen him drink all day long when...

Ah. He drank all day long while Amy was at work, but there were two days last week when she was out of the office entirely, under the care and careful eye of Holt, bundling himself off to work most likely without his water bottle. "The doctor said you didn't drink enough," she piped up casually at last, trying to keep the gentle accusatory tone out of her voice, patting his knee through the blanket she had wrapped around him. "I thought you liked your new water bottle."  
She tried to keep the gently hurt tone out of her voice but it flowed in anyway; at the tone, which Jake recognised all too well, he stuck his chin out. "Do like it," he whispered, rubbing his eyes. "Do."

"Not if you're not drinking all the water in it!" Amy countered, cocking her head. "I guess you don't want that pirate ship after all."

Jake whined immediately. "Doooo!" 

Amy shrugged. "You didn't drink your water." Then, after some thought, added, "or use the potty at work. You got yourself sick!" she chastised gently, although she supposed she didn't really mean it, because getting sick seemed like punishment enough.

Jake whined again, muted, picking at a loose thread on the blanket and winding it around one finger. His tummy felt fidgety, like there was a knot in it, and he hated when it felt like that especially when he was little. "You weren't at work," he whimpered. 

"...You still need to drink and pee when I'm not at work, Jakey." Amy giggled lightly. 

Jake stuck his chin out at her, and his lip had begun to quiver. "You weren't at work," he pressed again. 

"I know, hon, but if I'm not at work that doesn't mean you have to stop looking after yourself...." Amy murmured tentatively, stroking his hair. 

He shrank, picking at his comforter, and shook his head. "Not that."

Amy frowned. He continued without her having to prompt him, feeling the knot in his belly loosen a little. "Rosa..."

Realisation prickled in Amy's stomach. Rosa had taken over once last week, she remembered Jake mentioning it. She hadn't been there, she had been on a mindfulness retreat for work. She hadn't wanted to go, not when she knew Jake was... how he was... but Holt had encouraged her and off she had went but Jake had seemed _fine_ and he hadn't mentioned anything being wrong when she had come back... "Rosa what, hon?" she frowned, dipping her head to try and meet his gaze.

**Rule 23: Pinch**  
_Jake doesn't like pill medication. If he has to take it, pinch his nose and throw it in when he opens his mouth for air._  
_PS: liquid medication is better. Save your sanity._  
_PPS: Rosa has surprisingly effective parenting tips...?_


End file.
